


The Great Doctor McKay

by meyari



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Angst, M/M, POV First Person, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-06
Updated: 2010-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 21:49:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meyari/pseuds/meyari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the team went to investigate a new planet, I never expected that I'd get kidnapped and turned into a legend.  Seriously, all I wanted to do was go home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

You would think that after everything I've done for them they'd have the capacity to understand that while I'm good—very, very good, I mean hello, genius here!—I'm not infallible. I do make mistakes and when I make a mistake, it's a world-beater of a mistake or in this case more of a solar system beater. Seriously, I did my best and they were all egging me on and I was exhausted and well, I failed. It eats at me, but not as much as the Sheppard-sized hole in my life. Teyla and Ronon and Elizabeth and Carson and everyone else's disappointment and disapproval don't matter quite as much as Sheppard's. The way his mouth twists and his eyes look when he peers at me now hurts a hell of a lot worse than anything that ever happened, including Kolya and Russia and all the other stupid little failures all the way along in my life.

But I'm still on the team, which is a relief because it gets me out of the city where they're checking everything I do, sometimes three and four times over. I know that Radek's going to get my job anytime now, but I'm still there, still in Atlantis, still fixing things, still on the team, so yes, when the time comes and we all load into the jumper I'm grateful, so stupidly grateful that I get to go. I take my vest and my supplies and tools and settle into my seat and try not to notice the suspicious looks that Sheppard gives me as we take off. I try not to notice how Ronon's watching me. I try not to notice the cool tone of Teyla's voice as she tells us what little she knows of the world we're going to this time.

It's just another mission, going where no one's gone before, but I was never that much of a fan of Star Trek. Give me Dr. Who any day over Kirk and Picard and all the rest. Science wins over brute force any day, and besides, one of these days I'll get all the pieces I need to make a real sonic screwdriver and then Atlantis will see what I can really do, not that they'll care. They'll just take it for granted and keep on taking me for granted until I fail again and then who knows what will happen.

That's when I cut off my thoughts because I know if I don't I'm going to start crying and that would be even more humiliating. I will not cry, not even when everyone I've considered a friend has turned their backs on me; losing them is especially hard when I've never really had any friends before in my life, not even Jeannie.

To fill in the melancholy spaces in my thoughts I start complaining, letting the words pour out of me to wash the depressing thoughts away. My team isn't listening. Their inattention is quite obvious as I go on about more important things requiring my attention back at Atlantis and how they'll blow up the city if I'm not there. I tell them what a waste of my time this is, going out on missions when I could be earning a Nobel Prize. Sheppard has the nerve to roll his eyes, but I'm watching the scanners, not him, because even though there's a Sheppard-sized hole in my heart I never had him to lose. Not really. I chatter on about the likelihood of getting anything worthwhile from these primitive natives being something akin to threading a camel through a needle and then have to explain to Teyla and Ronon what a camel is. Ronon asks why anyone would want to do such a thing and haven't they ever heard to figures of speech before? Seriously! I'm about to rant about that when the sensors go off and I look and—

"Oh my, now that's interesting," I say, wanting to smirk as Sheppard jumps to attention at my simple statement or, more accurately, when my flood of words stops.

"What?" asks Sheppard, the word more a demand than the request it would have been before I lost his trust.

"Wow, that's really interesting," I reply, not really answering him because I think, 'why should I?' I already know he's not going to take my word for it anyway.

"Rodney!" Sheppard growls in that way that always makes my back tense up and a shiver run down my spine.

There's more menace in it than there used to be, and a lot less sexiness, but it's still the old growl and I'll take what I can get at this point. I'll never have him, but at least I can still interact with him. Not that I ever had a chance with Captain Kirk of Atlantis, the Sexiest Man On The Planet, John The Utterly Straight Sheppard, of course. But I can dream and that's all I'll ever do despite the Sheppard-sized hole that aches inside of me.

"There's a shield over the planet," I tell him, studying the monitors and readings, fascinated by it all while I'm still intensely aware of my team's worry and disapproval. "We should be fine getting in and out. It's Ancient technology, and some of us have the proper genes to open any doors here, but it would do terrible things to Wraith ships, so maybe we might actually find something useful here after all."

Teyla and Ronon look over my shoulder and Sheppard nods, looking almost like he used to--except for the faint look of mistrust in his eyes. We go through the shield without any difficulty, and I can't help frowning as I check my scan. It's obvious that the shield's weakening, and I point out the places where there are intermittent holes, explaining that, while a hive ship would inevitably be destroyed, a Dart or two could get through. They likely couldn't get back out, but they could get in, so maybe we won't find as much as we thought at first.

We land at the edge of a big town, an actual city, though it's like going back to early Victorian times--except with more fluffy lace on front of their shirts. There are horses--or what this world would call horses--things with shaggy coats and clawed feet and dull eyes that don't look much like horses to me. However, they do pull carriages and wear saddles and act a heck of a lot like horses, so I'll grant them the name. There are occasional steam-driven machines that look fascinating, if deathly dangerous, and we wander through the streets. A man in an impressive uniform, who's at least as big as Ronon stops us, questions us and then escorts us to the center of town where there's an obviously Ancient building and I think, 'Well, will you look at that!'

They've got two gates: one active in orbit and then this one on the planet. I try to get closer to it, drifting away from the others because they're talking politics and medicine and trade and really who cares? There are two gates for this world and I find that quite fascinating. There aren't many worlds where that's true--and Earth is one of those worlds. I wonder what made this world so special that they have the two gates and the shield. Then I see it and have to mutter under my breath, 'Oh now, that was just idiotic.' It's apparent that someone's meddled with the gate and it's broken. Well, naturally it would cut down on their visitors, but it should be fairly easy to fix, if I can get past the rope that they've put around the gate. I peer over it, looking at the damage but not crossing the boundary. I've learned my lesson. I know enough not to meddle without caution, but I am curious and I would like to understand.

I look around for the others, wondering where they went and if I could get permission to fix the thing. It would be so much easier to trade with the natives if their surface gate worked, but they're wandering off to the Ancient building that's apparently a temple now, so I grumble and trot over to catch up to them. Of course, none of them had even noticed that I was gone, not even Sheppard who's busy flirting with a cute girl with strawberry blonde hair and big, impressed green eyes. I'm fuming because I don't understand how he can he do that. How can he worm his way into people's hearts when he knows he's going to leave and they'll be left behind, left alone, left with a Sheppard-sized hole in their hearts? Of course, he probably doesn't see it that way, doesn't realize what he does to people.

He doesn't realize what he did to me when he showed up in Antarctica and sat down in the chair and made everything work. He doesn't know that everything I've done has been to try to be worthy of someone who's that cool, that impressive, that strong. I've tried and tried and tried, and maybe sometimes I've succeeded, but it all went to hell in the end when my mistakes caught up with me. He walked away, leaving that hole in my heart that will never be filled, no matter what I do. I've lost his trust and that's all there is to it.

I wander off again, not wanting to watch him seduce someone else, yet another pretty girl, yet another priestess, scientist, village girl, whatever. I check the great hall and then meander down a corridor, scanning for power sources and I find it. There it is, the shield generator, sitting next to a big meat-grinding, steam-driven monstrosity. The shield generator isn't big--despite what it does--just about the size of a desk and obviously of Ancient manufacture. I wander over and look at it, peering into its various compartments and sides, humming and nodding to myself since no one else followed and—

"Oh for heaven's sake!" I snap, looking at the mess of jury-rigged components that are interfering with the shield generator's function. "Why in the world would anyone be stupid enough to do that?"

I start fixing it, pulling out tools and complaining the whole while. I can't imagine what the people were thinking when they did that. They've barely managed to master steam power and they're messing with Ancient technology, the very technology that's keeping them safe from the Wraith. It's an easy fix, a quick one, which is probably a good thing given that any second now Sheppard's going to appear with a scowl and a snide comment about blowing them up, too. He'll make some sort of rude comment and haul me back to the others by my arm like I'm a four-year-old throwing a tantrum, but now it's fixed and I nod with satisfaction.

"There we go," I say to the priest-cum-scientist who hurries in with a worried expression. "You really shouldn't mess with this. This is what's keeping you safe from the Wraith. I fixed your mistakes and made a little modification. Your Zed-PM, the power source crystal here, is pretty low but you should get another couple of hundred years out of it before it dies and I imagine by then we'll have figured out how to make them or have found a way to stop the Wraith. Either way, you shouldn't have any more raids now."

"You fixed it?" the priest-cum-scientist said, his eyes wide.

"Of course, what do you think I am?" I splutter, glaring at him. "It was messed up so I fixed it. What's so hard to understand about that?"

"You understand this technology?" he asks me, his eyes narrowing in a way that immediately feels very, very dangerous to me.

"Yes," I answer slowly, edging away from him ever so slightly.

If I had Spidey-senses they'd be tingling and with good reason. He nods and the guards suddenly grab me. One of them has a knife and I gasp, staring at them. Immediately, the words 'Oh fuck no! They're not going to sacrifice me on the 'altar' or something are they?' run in a blind panic through my mind. I struggle and scream and try to kick or break free but they're too strong and too many. The one with the knife cuts my arm and I scream a lot more sharply, hearing Ronon, Sheppard and Teyla yelling. I know they're coming, so I struggle harder, tearing my sleeve off in one of their hands. They dog-pile on me and there's a jab of a needle and then the world…drifts away.

I can hear my team as I'm carried away, can hear the priest-cum-scientist explaining that I'd done something and gotten caught in the machinery behind the shield generator. He claims that I'd been crushed and ground up and dumped into the latest batch of religious offering meat that's fed to the poor. He's apologizing, apologizing so hard, sounding so sincere, but they're carrying me away, kidnapping me, taking me from the others, from Sheppard, from John. My mind fades out to the sound of John shouting, but I can't make out his words, only the horrified pain in his voice.

When I wake up, I'm somewhere else entirely and my head is throbbing from either the drug or hypoglycemia. My clothes have been changed and I'm in some nice pajamas, not silk but something close to it. I can smell food and, when I open my eyes, I see that it's quite a nice room for a prison. The bed's a torture device, but then most beds are for my back. The priest-cum-scientist is sitting next to my bed. He beams when I open my eyes.

"Thank goodness you're awake," the bastard gushes in my direction, as if he wasn't responsible for the situation. "We were worried that the drug would harm you. It can have a degenerative effect on certain individuals."

"What?" I gasp, sitting up and then groaning as my head swims.

"Don't worry, as long as we keep administering it you'll be fine," he says, helping me lie down again.

He explains that Sheppard and Teyla and Ronon all believe that I'm dead. They ran my clothes and some meat through the machinery, which unfortunately was used for grinding up dead sacrificial animal--so of course there won't be any of my blood or DNA left once the clothes have gone through. They convinced the others that I was dead. They did save some of my equipment that fell out of my pockets, like my GDO, but most of it was returned to Atlantis in smashed little bits. Now, I'm supposedly safe and I never have to worry and I'll be able to fix things for them for the rest of my life. That's the same life which might be a little shorter than expected because of the drug they have to give me every day--the drug that supposed to prevent me from catching some stupid disease that they're fighting--a disease that I suspect is a direct result of them drugging themselves to begin with.

I refuse to cooperate, demand that they return me to my people, pitch as big of a fit as I'm capable of, but it accomplishes absolutely nothing other than them drugging me again. When I wake up the second time, I can feel that their wonder drug is doing terrible things to me. It's not hypochondria, not this time. I can feel it, literally feel it eating away at my nerves, my muscles. I can't allow them to give me another of those shots.

I decide I have to get out. It's the middle of the night and there are clothes, ridiculous frilly shirt clothes, but clothes nonetheless. I slip out of bed and get dressed as quietly as I can. I eat the food they left for me, being careful to scan for anything that looks vaguely citrus, but still manage to eat about half of it while searching the room for anything that I could use as a tool or weapon.

'Lord, but they're idiots,' I think as I sneak out of the building. They not only left me clothes, they left my GDO and my remaining tools and several bits of Ancient technology that do quite nicely as a jury-rigged sonic screwdriver (though no where near as sleek and sexy as the Doctor's) to get me out of their prison and out onto the streets. I get as far away from the palace prison that they were holding me in as quickly as possible. I wander for a while and then stop, staring down at the ocean.

We didn't land near the ocean. We landed in the middle of the continent near the largest city. I remember another big city was supposed to be located on the far western edge of the continent, right on the ocean, so that must be where I am. I curse and mumble to myself, rubbing my arm where they gave me the injections. It aches and I know that this isn't good. I have to get back to the capital, back to the broken stargate. I have to fix it and get home, back to Atlantis where Carson can work his wonders and save my life. I have faith in Carson's ability to save me, though I'll never say it out loud--I'd never hear the end of it.

I come across an old man with a broken down steam-powered truck. It's easy enough to fix the truck and he gladly volunteers to give me a ride as far as he's going, which happens to be out of the city and heading towards the capital so I accept. I tell him stories and he tells me stories, and we take turns steering and shoveling coal to feed the monstrosity of an engine. We get where he's going and his old, bent-over wife feeds me breakfast. I fix her stove and a couple of other little things and they're so grateful, so delighted.

"It's nothing," I say to them, shrugging. It is nothing. These things are tinker-toys. I could have fixed the same stuff when I was a toddler. "But it is a little cold out. If you had a coat and maybe some food to spare for the journey, that'd be great."

They give me a greatcoat with a cape over the shoulders and more pockets than Dr. Who could use. I stuff tools and food and my makeshift sonic screwdriver into them, almost cooing in manly delight when the old man gives me some tiny little screwdrivers that would be perfect for improving my sonic screwdriver prototype. I have to admit when I wave goodbye it's with regret. They're nice people and neither of them tried to jab a needle full of poison in my arm.

 

~~~

 

That first day of repairs set the pattern for the days that followed. I travel for a little while, find someone with a broken machine, watch, get impatient, forge in with a blast of words and ego that pushes them out of the way, and fix it. I'd be desperately impatient at how long everything is taking if it weren't for the people I'm helping and their enormous gratitude. It floors me how much they appreciate my help when they have no idea who I am. I never ask for much; food, shelter, a quick escape from the authorities that are still searching for me. The days are turning into weeks as I sneak and fix my way across the continent. It isn't easy. There aren't any good ways to get from point A to point B unless you're one of the leaders who use the Ancient's teleportation system, which must be how I got from the capital to the ocean. No one less important is allowed to use it. Their roads are execrable. They have no mass transit other than one shiny new steam locomotive that runs only about a hundred miles grand total and that ends at the capital. I walk a lot. Actually, I do more trotting than walking because there's still so far to go and the authorities with their poison-filled needles are right behind me all the time.

After a couple of weeks, I started to notice a strange pattern. I'll get to a town and people start looking at me. Normally, they don't notice me. I've never been much to look at after all, despite the fact that I'm losing more weight than the exercise could explain. But now they do. They'll glance over, eyes dull with everyday boredom, and then they'll light up. Their faces become animated and they'll take in my greatcoat, my battered boots and bag of spare clothes, the twist to my mouth, and they'll smile, nod and start muttering to their friends.

"It's Doctor McKay," I hear them whispering sometimes. "It's really him!"

It's the freakiest thing that has ever happened to me.

I know I have an ego. I've said many times that everyone should regard me with awe. After everything I've done for Atlantis, you'd think that they would look up to me but no, they don't. They took me for granted, 'took' not 'take' since they think I'm dead. Still, to have it actually happen, to have people look at me with blatant wonder in their eyes and to help just for the honor of assisting the 'Great Doctor McKay' is creepy. I'm not 'great'. I'm just trying to get home before the poison in my body kills me. I've lost at least fifteen percent of my body weight since I started this trek across the continent. I'd have made it to the capital by now if only I could go in a straight line. But no, the authorities are hunting for me, still trying to get me back so I have to dodge and backtrack and damned near go in circles to evade them. At least the adulation of the general populace is keeping me out of their hands.

 

~~~

 

I'd been here for almost four months before I realized that I'd become a folk hero. The government of this continent, this world, isn't the worst I've ever seen. The Genii are much worse. But it's not the most enlightened government that I've ever dealt with either. They don't exactly treat their people well, so me wandering around out here fixing things and improving their lives is almost a miracle to them. The fact that I don't ask for much seems to make me even more popular.

Soap. Baths. Food. Water. A new pair of boots, or a new screwdriver, or a hat when it's raining. My greatcoat appears to be indestructible because, while my pants and shirts and socks and boots have all been replaced during the last few months, it's still going strong. I don't know what the thing's made of but, whatever it is, it would make a stellar trade item. It's warm and sturdy and survives everything I put it through as I run from the authorities and fix things and sleep in it and damn near bathe in the thing. It doesn't even fray at the hems, which is amazing when I consider the abuse I'm putting it through.

It took me six months to get far enough across the continent that I can see the capital lurking in the distance. I'd love to say that it shines, but it doesn't. It lurks, enveloped in a haze of smog from the steam engines and their coal turbines. Thankfully, I'm far away from it still. My lungs are still strong, though my left arm is starting to waste away and I'm down to less than half the size that I was. I'm like a stick figure instead of a man. It's frightening how I can feel this stuff eating away at me. I keep going. What else can I do? If I sit down to rest for too long, they'll catch me and inject me with more of the drug. They'll catch me and take me back to the city by the bay instead of home where Carson can work his voodoo magic and heal me.

I come to a town and find my first 'Great Doctor McKay' faker. He's selling something, so I drift closer, staying at the back of the crowd. As surreal experiences go, this one is world-beater. He looks a lot like me, just fatter, healthier and with less hair. He pulls out a small bottle and starts pitching his miracle tonic. That's when I lose it.

I call him every name in the book and make a few up just for him. I yell. I rant. I rave. I drag him off his wagon's back step and get right in his face. I give him a lecture the likes of which my subordinates back home have never witnessed--and would never survive. He crumbles and I keep yelling at him, not caring that the local authorities are coming.

"I do not fix people!" I finally bellow at him as he cowers on the ground. "I couldn't heal someone to save my life. God in heaven, man, I can't save my own life! I am a scientist! I fix machines, not living bodies! Do you have any idea what these ingredients could do to a person?"

The crowd is watching with more amazement than usual, and the local police are trying to push through them, at least until they realize that this 'Great Doctor McKay' really is Doctor McKay. Then they join in the staring as I blast the man into a shriveled heap with the force of my words and my personality, as I explain in gory detail what some of the chemicals in his tonic can do to your body. The moron nearly pisses himself and I snort with disgust, turning to the crowd with a scowl.

"Don't listen to idiots who say they can cure any illness," I say to them. "Even with everything that the Ancients had, they couldn't cure everything. They died of a disease they couldn't treat and an enemy they couldn't fight. Don't expect miracles. Just live your lives and do your best with what you have."

I'm tired, so very tired, after that little explosion so I walk away from the fake Doctor McKay. The crowd opens up for me like I'm someone great, someone powerful. I end up sitting on the edge of a fountain in the center of town. I truly couldn't care less if they caught me right now. It's been six months, six long, hard, torturous months. Adulation from people I don't know isn't enough to keep me going and the damn Sheppard-sized hole in my heart is still there.

'I wonder if he misses me,' I think, staring at my hands. They've gotten so thin, covered with little scars and bruises, marks of all the repairs I've done. I really am wasting away. I don't have forever to travel the rest of the way to the city. A woman comes up and then sits next to me. I can see her skirts by my feet, but I don't look up. After a long moment, she rubs my back and gives me a sandwich. I laugh quietly and nod thanks. She's older than I thought, with grey hair at the temples, but she's still quite attractive. She pats my back again and leaves. It's a good sandwich, nice and meaty with the green cheese that I was so suspicious of at first but now like a lot. I sigh, watching the people of the town for a minute, and then I stand up.

It's time to get going. I've still got a long ways to go.

I decide that he's probably moved on by now. He was angry with me and I was just that annoying scientist on his team. Sure, I fixed things in Atlantis but I don't think that I was ever as important to him as he was to me. I'm not the best at dealing with people, but then I'm not a total idiot either. I just don't think that he'd still be thinking about me, remembering me. He's probably forgotten how I walk, the way I talk. The little things about me will have faded by now. Of course, I still remember how he walked, that slinkily graceful way he moved, the way his mouth would quirk when he smiled and the absurd shape of his ears, but then I had a massive crush on him.

I still haven't given up on getting back to Atlantis...and him, so I guess I still do.

 

~~~

 

It took me another month to get to the train. There's always so much to watch out for and I'm starting to lose my stamina. There are more guards, more cops, more of the guys with guns and needles that I've been avoiding. I do make it to the train, fixing things as I go. The people seem to nearly worship me at times. A little old lady catches me watching the train station and wondering how the hell I'm going to get a ticket or whether I can just stow away on the thing. She totters over to the counter, buys a ticket to the capital, and then comes back to put it in my hand.

"You get back home, Doctor McKay," she tells me in a rusty old voice. "You get back where you belong. It does us all good to know that there are men like you in the world. I don't know why they took you away from the ones you love but you clearly don't deserve it. Go home."

I gape at her like a fish out of water and blink back tears as she totters away. It's hard watching her go. There have been so many strangers who have been so kind to me, even though I'm such an ass, but I'm the Great Doctor McKay and I fix things, so when I dash onto the train as it pulls out to leave no one stops me. The old lady bought me a private berth so I could sleep in privacy and have a real bed. There's even a little shower I use to get clean, and I'm thankful for that luxury because I stink. It's been so long since I could properly bathe so I scrub and scrub and I swear that I rinse off at least a metric ton of dirt. I feel twenty pounds lighter when I step out. Of course, I'm actually more like fifty pounds lighter or maybe it's seventy-five. I look at my arms and legs, and then run my fingers over my ribs. They're too damned visible. There's still a little flesh left, but not so much anymore. I can still run, still fix things. And it will only take four days to get to the capital now, not more weeks. I might survive after all.

The train is noisy and a little sooty when you open a window, so I never do. I eat in the dining car with the other passengers, nodding permission when the steward asks if other people can join me at my table. Thankfully, they quickly stop complimenting me and telling me how honored they are. I get them to talk so I can eat and shamelessly steal bites of food from their plates. They seem to find it charming. One young boy steals from my plate and we make a game of it for the rest of the meal.

Trains are obviously a very new thing for them on this planet. There's just one track, which I think is lunacy. There are places where you stop and pull aside to let the other train go by, but there are no signals or anything to say that there's another train coming. You just follow the schedule and pray. I get myself invited into the engine on the third day, poke at everything and help to shovel coal until I'm too tired to continue. The engineer clearly loves his train more than life itself. I give him some hints and ideas about how to make it better, more efficient, safer. He pulls out a little pad of paper and scribbles them all down. His name is Timon and asks me to call him Tim. He tears up when I ask him to call me Rodney. We spend a good four hours talking and comparing notes.

Spending four hours talking with Timon and comparing notes pays off when the steward arrives at my berth on the last day of our trip, pounding on the door and yelling about another emergency to fix. I grab my coat and my bag of clothes and my brand-new really quite amazing sonic screwdriver and run through the train while everyone cries out in fear. It's clear that the 'Great Doctor McKay' running through the train has to mean trouble.

It's trouble.

The train's brakes are no longer functional because the Tim's idiot assistant decided to attempt a modification while running. There's another train approaching from the opposite direction and the cutout is coming, where we're supposed to pull aside and allow it to pass. We're so close to the city now that I could practically walk there, but we're flying down the rails and we're going to smash headlong into the other train. Everyone is going to die.

I start talking, letting the words wash out of me in a blast like a tidal wave sweeping the panicked people away. Timon backs off, his eyes wide as he watches me do what Doctor Who would do. I explain quickly, design a brilliant new modification to the train's brakes, describe a new way of making automatic braking and complain about how idiotic it was to build one set of tracks. Anyone with at least half a brain could have predicted that this would happen. The people who built the train should have had the common sense that God implanted in a sponge to see the need for parallel sets of rails so that the trains could never hit each other head-on.

By the time I'm done complaining, I finish repairing the brake and the assistant looks like his whole life has flashed in front of his eyes. I pull the lever and Timon helps me, throwing open the boiler so that the engine loses all its steam. I know that it will work, but I pray and haul on the brake with everything I have and get the assistant to help and we sail onto the cutout and through and the nose of our engine just barely, barely, grazes the engine of the opposing train.

I have to sit down because my heart's giving me trouble and I can't seem to breathe properly anymore.

Timon is laughing and pounding his assistant's back, all the while crying into his mustache. The authorities are coming. I can hear the shouts. The rest of the passengers are crying and praising the 'Great Doctor McKay' for saving their lives. I sigh. I really want to go home. As the authorities close in on the far side of the train, I get up and tell Timon it's his responsibility to go out and reassure the crew and passengers. I get his assistant to run back for my things, even though they're sitting on the floor next to my feet.

"Thank you, sir," Timon said, patting my shoulder. "You saved us all."

"Purely an accident," I say with a grin that I know twists one side of my mouth downward. "I was just saving my own life."

He laughs and hops out to delay the authorities while I scramble down the far side of the train with my bag of clothes and run for the slums close by. When I look back, I see Timon and one of the police officers looking after me, something like respect and understanding in their eyes. I nod at them and disappear again.

It takes me almost two and a half days to walk from the slums at the edge of town to the center where the temple to the Ancestors stands. I have to avoid too many guards out hunting for me. I watch the square for a long while to map out where the guards are. I nod at the little girl who recognizes me while I wait for a clear moment. She giggles and tugs her mother's skirts. Once the shift changes and things calm down, I slowly saunter into the square, heading for the broken stargate. People know nothing's wrong because I'm not talking fast and pulling tools out of my wonderful greatcoat's many pockets. I try for that especially calm Doctor Who strut that says 'not a care in the world, but I'm ready if something happens' to keep the crowd under control.

I wander over to the DHD, checking it out casually. It looks okay, nothing wrong with it. I proceed to wander just as casually over to the stargate. I move the rope barrier out of the way calmly. I'm the 'Great Doctor McKay.' If I want to look at the thing, I will. No one stops me from approaching it or even comments. The guard standing close to me watches, but doesn't say a word. He seems curious, but not afraid.

"Tisk," I say, shaking my head at the open panel. "You should never leave delicate machinery like this open to the elements. Causes all sorts of problems. Can't imagine what anyone was thinking doing that."

I pull out tools. I clean out a bird's nest and pass it to the guard who blinks and takes it from me as if it was made of gold. I check the circuit crystals and they're more or less okay. A little messy, so I use my sonic screwdriver to clean them up and then put them back where they belong. The panel's right there, so I put it back in place, seal the console up and pat it affectionately. I swear that I can feel it humming happily at me. It's been a very long time since I last touched Ancient technology, and I think I really can feel it's pleasure under my fingertips.

"You want to work again, don't you?" I murmur to it. "Well, let's see what we can do."

There's a crowd around me now, and I use the ropes to keep them all out of the way of the wormhole's 'splash zone.' I don't allow myself to think that it might not form. I can't bear the thought of living here forever. The people back up and stand in an orderly fashion, wide-eyed in awe and maybe a little scared, but it's the 'Great Doctor McKay' and he's up to something so it'll be all right. I see the priest-cum-scientist who kidnapped me coming from the temple and I caress the DHD. I know I feel it purring under my fingers.

"What are you doing?" he gasps as I push the first button and it lights up for the first time in what has to be generations.

"Going home," I say, pushing the next, and the next until they've all been chosen and then I activate the gate.

The event horizon forms in a violent kawoosh of energy that makes everyone gasp and back off. I pull out my precious GDO, sending Atlantis my signal. I hope that they'll believe it, that they'll open the shield. I hope that they'll listen. The priest-cum-scientist is shaking as he stares at the gate and then at me.

"Who are you?" he breathes, staring at me as though his eyes are going to pop out.

"I'm Doctor Rodney McKay," I reply and I manage not to collapse with relief when the GDO signals back that the shield is down. "I'm going home."

He lets me go without a word as I saunter towards the gate. It's so beautiful that it makes my heart hurt. It's been nearly eight months since I was kidnapped. Eight months and the birth of a legend and so much travel and I swear that I've lost half my body weight. None of my old clothes would fit anymore, though of course they're certainly all gone by now. I stop and gently touch the event horizon that feels like nothing. I turn and look back at the crowd, smile my crooked smile at them and nod. A wave of murmurs goes through the crowd. In a few days, they'll be saying that the 'Great Doctor McKay' was actually one of the Ancestors, one of the Ancients, but I don't care.

I'm going home.

I step through and I swear it's like I've entered heaven. I can smell the sea and look at those beautiful arches and the lights and all the guns pointed at me. Well, yeah, I did sort of leave on a bad note, and they did think I was dead, so guns do make sense. John is there, looking utterly gobsmacked. Teyla's crying with her hands pressed to her mouth. Ronon stares, gives me a quick once-over and shakes his head in amazement. Elizabeth is babbling something in my direction, but Carson's voice in the background has me sighing in relief.

"You're alive," John says, and I think that I should start calling him Sheppard again in my head but I really can't. "You're alive."

"Mostly," I say with a little not-smile that hurts inside. "I really need to see Carson. You would not believe the crap they put in my veins."

I'm not expecting anything, but he steps closer, shaking, and I wonder because it looks like he lost weight too. Then he's grabbing me and hugging so hard that it literally hurts. I swear I can feel my bones creaking. I pat his back awkwardly, unsure of what to do, because I may be a genius but I know nothing about people, especially him. He finally lets me go and, for a second, I think he's going to kiss me in front of everyone, but Teyla's there to touch her forehead to mine and then hug me and I know I'm in bad shape because her hug hurts too. When Ronon hugs me, I squawk and push him away.

"Damn it, listen to me, people!" I snap. "They put some damned poison in me and I'm serious. I need to see Carson and let him work his voodoo on me. I'm not sure how much longer I've got."

"Same old Rodney," John quips.

He goes white as a ghost when I hold up my left hand and push my sleeve back, so I guess the all the hugging hadn't clued him in to my condition. The way my bones and veins stand out makes everyone go silent. They rush me off to the infirmary and they're all so freaked out that I start haranguing them along the way. I complain about how I was treated and demand to know why they didn't bother to look for me. After all, when the greatest genius of two galaxies is kidnapped, you should at least try scanning for him. I grumble about the food and the citrus and how obnoxious it was to be trapped on a planet with no decent form of public transportation and how long it really takes to walk across a continent.

By the time I'm in the infirmary and Carson's scanning me to find out what they did to me, the wall of words has made everyone else calm down. John's lost that terrible look in his eyes and he's standing there watching me under the scanner like a proud papa. You'd think he'd done all the walking and suffering from the way he looks. Elizabeth's beside him and Teyla comes in with food that makes me drool and Carson barks at me to stay still, so I complain some more until they let me eat and finally I growl at the crowd, flipping my too-thin hand at them.

"What? You don't have anything else to do?" I say huffily. "Go on. Do your jobs. I've got pudding to eat and then I'm taking a nap in this torture device Carson calls a bed. Shoo."

They shoo, John looking back with a delighted grin as he leaves. I wait until they're gone to turn to Carson who still looks a bit grim.

"It's really not that bad of a bed," I confide to Carson who blinks and stares at me. "After eight months of sleeping wherever I fell, this isn't so bad. But don't tell anyone I said that. I have a reputation to maintain."

Carson starts laughing, looking much better than he had, so maybe I do know a little about people after all. Later, Elizabeth comes by again with John, and I tell them of my adventures. I don't tell them that I became the 'Great Doctor McKay' as I traveled. I tell them that I repaired things for people and they helped me out, hid me, fed me, and got me a little further along the way home. I tell them about the fabric of my greatcoat and John geeks out appropriately at my sonic screwdriver. Radek thinks that it's the coolest tool ever built and I have to take it back from him or he'd steal it. I tell people bits and pieces, about the nice older couple that gave me my coat, and the lady with the green cheese sandwich, and Timon and the train. I leave out the Doctor McKay faker, not wanting them to think I have an even more swelled head than when I left. I don't explain how I managed to get access to the stargate. I just say that I fixed it and managed to dial my way home. I can see that they still have questions, that they can see the holes in my stories, but they don't push it. They seem too happy to have me back.

Carson keeps me in the infirmary for three days, purging their miracle drug of death from my veins. Apparently, I'm mildly allergic to it and there's a weird component in it that must be Ancient-based because two doses were enough to make my body start attacking itself. He treats it with a broad-spectrum antibiotic combined with an Ancient machine they just figured out, and a lot of food and rest. When he releases me, he even hands me a regular T-shirt to replace the frilly monstrosity I was wearing when I arrived. My old traveling pants fit better so I simply wear them for now. I really have lost nearly half of my body weight and he prescribes frequent meals to gain it back, not that I mind.

It's late in the day when Carson lets me leave, almost evening, so I wander through the halls, slowing down as people stop me and say how glad they are that I survived. Eventually, I reach my room and open the door. It's empty. It's kind of touching that no one wanted the room after I was gone. There's no shrine, none of my possessions left behind, but no one else would live here. John claimed that everyone felt as if it would be disrespectful, and it's not like there's not enough other rooms in Atlantis.

I think about it, about how John has acted towards me since I came back. I think there's another story I haven't heard yet, one about how he reacted to my death, but it doesn't matter right now. I'm not sleeping in this empty room. I couldn't. So I turn around and meander down the halls with my bag and my greatcoat, doing the 'Great Doctor McKay' strut. No one seems to notice me doing it and it's such a relief, like a weight off my shoulders after all those months of living with people's expectations and needs.

I arrive at John's quarters and knock. He doesn't reply, so I use my sonic screwdriver and my gene to open the door. He wakes up with a start and stares at me in the dark. I toss my bag on the desk, my coat on the couch. I kick off my shoes and pull off my clothes. Then I slide into the bed next to him while he turns into a statue made of petrified flesh. I tug him down onto the pillow, snuggle up next to him and wrap an arm around his chest.

"Uh, McKay?" John says in that 'what the fuck do you think you're doing' tone of voice that he uses during missions when I'm really messing things up.

"What?"

"What is this?" John asks, and he starts to shake a little.

I bury my face in the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent and smiling against his skin. He shivers underneath me. I chuckle and he moans. I reach down and pull up the blankets, snuggling even closer. He lets out a long slow breath, like he's afraid I'm going break or he's going to break, and then he wraps an arm around my back to pull me a little closer.

"Aren't you going to say 'welcome home'?" I ask him, whispering the words under the curve of his jaw, his stubble rasping against my lips.

There's a long, long silence and his body slowly, ever so slowly relaxes underneath my cheek. I can feel every damned muscle under my arm as they let go one by one. Eventually, he goes loose and liquid and I smile into his neck, making him whimper. No matter what's happened and no matter what happens in the future, this is what I want and what he wants and to hell with DADT, the American military, the Wraith and God. Right here is where I belong.

"Welcome home, Rodney."

The Sheppard-sized hole in my heart goes away and I fall asleep on his shoulder.


	2. Home in the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Losing one of your teammates is never easy, but dealing with losing Rodney turned out to be much harder than John expected it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of Angst, Supposed Major Character Death—nobody actually dies, but everyone thinks it's true for most of the story), John whumpage, guilt flying everywhere, a happy ending and no sex.

John had never been very good at dealing with anger and grief. He'd done a crappy job of it after his mom passed away when he was little. He'd done a spectacularly terrible job of it during and after Afghanistan, and every soldier that died in Atlantis reminded him of how bad he was at it. The scientists who perished, those men and women never trained for combat and thrust in the middle of it, really tested his ability to control his emotions.

But no one had ever tormented him as much as Rodney, too-smart-for-a-soldier-like-you-McKay. The man didn't even have to die to do it. Doranda had proved that. John had known at the time that he shouldn't let McKay go ahead with the weapon after a man died. He'd known that it was a bad idea. He'd known the experiment was getting out of control. He'd known, but he'd still let McKay talk him into one more try, one more minute, more and more and more until a solar system was destroyed.

And now the anger was eating John alive.

It wasn't so much anger at Rodney...no...well...yes...there was a lot of anger directed toward Rodney, but even more anger at himself. He should have stopped it. He didn't know why he hadn't shut it down. Rodney had looked at him with those blue eyes so earnest and his mouth had twisted down on one side and, before John realized it, he was convincing Elizabeth to let Rodney try again, to let him keep trying. It didn't make any sense, and that fed the anger, which made John snap and snarl every time he saw Rodney. Rodney would flinch and get that kicked puppy look that tore at John's heart, and then that made John angrier with himself and the cycle would ramp up to the next level…

John definitely wasn't good at handling anger.

John thought that if he just had someone to shoot, it would help. Kolya, Wraith, _who or whatever_, it didn't matter. Unfortunately, for John, the days were calm and quiet. The team did get a go on a mission, after what had seemed like years but actually only a couple of days. John felt almost sick at how grateful he was for the mission, as they loaded into the jumper. Rodney had that kicked puppy look, and he was still flinching at everything they said or did, so John's anger reared up at him again and he was snapping at Rodney when he really wanted to be apologizing for the way he was behaving.

He was grateful when Rodney stopped complaining and found the shield around P3X-971. It was better than listening to Rodney's not-quite-normal complaints, his feeble attempts to pretend that everything was okay when it obviously wasn't. Landing on the surface of the planet was an even greater relief, giving John people to watch and a city to explore and cool steampunk machines to ogle. Even better was when they were escorted to the heart of town, and the priest-leader of the place introduced a cute little strawberry-blonde to entertain John, while he talked to Teyla about trade matters.

Rodney drifted away from the rest of them like he always did, and the anger snarled at John, telling him to let Rodney go. It wasn't proper protocol and John knew it, but it was better than watching Rodney flinch all the time. Of course, the reason he was flinching was because John and Teyla and Ronon were either snapping at him or ignoring him, but obviously John's expression while thinking about that frightened the little blonde, so John smiled at her and she relaxed. He let his anger dissolve while flirting, certain it would be all right. The people seemed okay, and no one had weapons besides the temple guards and they only had smallish knives that Ronon snorted at in derision. Rodney wouldn't get into trouble after everything that had happened.

John let himself think that until he believed it and a good half hour went by with no Rodney. It was just long enough for John to start worrying about Rodney and feeling guilty for what he'd been doing but not quite long enough for him to get over his anger sufficiently to go find him and drag him back to the team.

Everyone stopped when a scream rang through the Ancient temple. John froze, instantly identifying it as Rodney's 'Oh God, get off of me, don't hurt me' scream. It echoed through the Ancient building-turned-temple. John was only confused for a second as to which direction to head. The little blond immediately attempted to block him from running toward Rodney's scream. He looked down at her and the anger flared into unbridled rage. She gasped and backed off, holding her hands up as if terrified of what she saw in his eyes. He'd seen that response in other people in Afghanistan and when dealing with the Genii and a few other times since coming to Pegasus. He knew he was getting out of control, but it was Rodney. That was just what happened whenever Rodney was in danger.

"Come on!" John snapped to Teyla and Ronon.

Rodney's screams were echoing down a corridor. They tried to head down it, but the guards blocked them. Ronon's growl and Teyla's glare didn't seem half as effective as the way John looked at them. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. They got out of the way just as Rodney's scream changed to the one that held true terror and the sure conviction that he was about to die.

John didn't know where his gun had come from, but it was in his hand as they charged down the hallway, trying to figure out which of the side rooms Rodney was in. He could hear a big machine grinding away and, on pure instinct, headed for that sound just as Rodney's scream bled off into a whimper-gurgle that echoed down the hallway. He'd never heard that sound out of Rodney before, but he had heard it from dying men in Afghanistan.

"Rodney!" John shouted.

John didn't know how they'd managed to find the right room. He didn't know how he'd gotten across the room to where the priest-leader was standing next to what had to be the shield generator. He didn't know what the man was babbling as John pressed his gun under the man's chin. The scream and the blood and the smell of death were all that he did know. A big machine in the background was covered in blood, and there were bits of fabric caught in the grinder. John could see the guards and other priests staring at them, but that scream and the pool of blood next to the shield generator were all that was real to him.

"Where is he?" John heard himself demanding in a voice more animal growl than human speech.

The priest-leader babbled something about an accident, about Rodney slipping and falling into the machinery behind them. He kept apologizing, saying he was sorry, sweating as he stared into John's eyes, eyes that John knew had to have nothing but promises of death in them. Ronon clamped a hand on John's shoulder and he backed off half a step, the gun still pointed at the priest-leader, his other hand fisted in the man's robes.

"John," Teyla gasped. Her voice held so much pain.

She knelt, picked up a bit of bloodstained fabric, stood and brought it over. It was Rodney's sleeve, cut and torn from his arm. The rage made John's blood pound in his ears. He forced it back down and examined the room that would be forever branded in his brain. Rodney's blood was nowhere near the grinding machine. It was a good three yards, closer to four yards, from the grinder. John's hands started shaking as the scene that had to have occurred played out in his head.

"We're searching this fucking building for Rodney," John snarled. "You're coming with us."

The priest-leader babbled at his followers and they moved out of the way. The upper levels had Ancient tech, tubes and platforms and consoles, and niches full of what would normally be neat stuff, but John didn't care. Rodney wasn't anywhere to be found. He hauled the priest-leader by the scruff of his neck, clearing every room. Each room without Rodney made his stomach tighten up. He cleared the top floors while Teyla and Ronon guarded the stairs so no one could sneak Rodney somewhere else, and then he headed downstairs, into the basement where the meat was deposited after it was ground up.

'It's nearly an industrial grade process,' John thought clinically as he searched the lower levels and found no sign of Rodney. 'They must go through thousands of animals every day with this setup.'

He didn't stop until he reached the place where they gathered the ground meat into big bins for packaging for the poor to take and eat. He stared into the bin. It felt as if a cool, calm wall slid between him and everything else. His hand let go of the priest-leader and Ronon grabbed the man instead. John reached into the bin, gently moving bloody red meat aside to find a corner of the energy detector that Rodney had always sworn would be lost or broken over his dead body.

"No," Teyla breathed, staring at it as John held it up.

Ronon made a sound somewhere between a moan and a roar. The priest-leader started babbling about how they'll find all that they can, all the fragments, all the bits of fabric that are left. He promised that the meat will be 'properly disposed of' rather than distributed. He was apologizing again, but John couldn't quite hear his words.

"Do it," John distantly heard himself order the priest leader as the others scrambled to follow his directions.

~~~

It was such a small box. Ronon carried the box that wasn't much bigger than a shoebox like it was the most precious thing he'd ever touched. Teyla wouldn't stop stroking the sleeve that Rodney had left behind. John was still seeing the world in washed-out colors and hearing voices as if they were coming from a million miles away. He knew he needed that wall if he were going to get back to the jumper without killing innocent people, or himself.

"We're scanning this fucking place," John said, his voice trembling nearly as bad as his body, "and if you're very, very lucky we won't come back and kill every single one of you."

He didn't wait to hear the priest-leader's babbling. He strode out of the Ancient building and people scattered out of their way in the streets. The puddlejumper was such a relief when they got there, solid and real and humming with anxiety for John. The scanners were already up and running when John stomped up the ramp. The jumper was already looking for Rodney's unique signature. The tracker on his clothes showed nothing. It had been broken when Rodney's clothes went through the grinder. The tracker under his skin should have shown more. It should have shown where Rodney himself was, because it couldn't be in the little box that Ronon held in his too-large hands. Rodney, sure as hell, couldn't be in that pile of meat.

"Nothing," John choked, staring at the results with eyes that burned.

Teyla made a hurt little noise in her throat. Ronon growled, more pain than anger in the sound now. John took a deep breath and, before he could consciously think it, the puddlejumper took off. It flew up to about a thousand feet. The scanners worked, studying the city in a level of detail that John had never seen before. These scanners were new, something that they had never seen in the jumper before. Rodney would be so excited, would have been so….

John couldn't complete the thought.

"Nothing," John said, the word hurting his throat as it worked its way free.

They went up again, to 10,000 feet, then up to right under the shield, and then outside of the shield. There were Ancient sites in four places on the planet. There were energy signatures that might mean working Ancient tech, though nothing that looked to John like a ZPM besides the building where Rodney…. There were interesting readings all over those buildings, but nothing that matched Rodney's tracker. He caught a couple of little anomalous flickers from the building where Rodney…but nothing that matched the scientist or his tracker.

"Nothing."

They sat in silence for a long time. John listened to the sound of his breathing and thought clinically that it sounded painful. It was painful. Teyla was still gently caressing the torn bit of sleeve. Ronon was grinding his teeth so hard that John could hear the crunching. That sounded painful too, but at least it wasn't John's pain, except as a shared pain. His entire team was feeling pain, would always feel that pain. They'd lost a quarter of the team. They'd lost their anchor, the one who always kept them safe by being flinchy and afraid and knowing all the dangers they were facing. They'd lost Rodney, the one who kept John and Ronon and Teyla from taking stupid risks.

They'd lost him.

"Now what?" Ronon asked, hunched over the box as if his gut was hurting.

"Home," John said, not sure that he was coherent enough to fly them there.

"Will we not go back down there?" asked Teyla, her voice calm and quiet while her eyes raged and showed just as much desire to kill as Ronon's. "There is much that should be said to their leader."

John shook his head. He knew better. He'd been here before. He'd been here twice before actually. He knew that he didn't dare go back, or people would be hurt, people would die and they wouldn't be the people who deserved to die. They'd just be innocent bystanders, but it wouldn't matter to John. Rodney was gone and there was nothing John could do but try to bottle the rage, and cope with the pain long enough to make it to his room where he could seal the doors and shout and rage and possibly collapse into tears he'd never admit to shedding.

"If…"

His voice didn't quite work on the first word, so John swallowed hard and took a deep breath. He held it for a count of ten and let it out slowly the way he'd learned after Afghanistan. He could do it. He could hold it together long enough to get them home. He thought that maybe he'd done harder things, but he wasn't sure. What he was feeling was so overwhelming that he couldn't compare it to anything else he'd ever experienced.

"If I go back down there," continued John, his voice strained and strange, "the wrong people will die, Teyla. I'll die. I won't care enough to keep myself or either of you alive."

Teyla and Ronon both winced. John made a not-smile that hurt his face and shrugged. He turned the puddlejumper towards the gate. He could feel its unhappiness with his pain, feel it trying to comfort him as best it could by being even more responsive than normal. He dialed home, sent their signal, and let another shuddery breath out. He glanced at Teyla, who looked as if she were about to break into tears.

"You know that Rodney wouldn't want us to get killed that way," John said, his voice breaking. "He wouldn't want us to end up dead at all."

That seemed to suffice for both Teyla and Ronon, letting them calm just a bit and redirect the killing rage into grief. John wondered what would let him do that. He didn't think anything could.

~~~

John let Teyla explain what had happened to Elizabeth and the others. She did a very good job keeping it calm and rational, not saying what they knew to be true though she implied it quite clearly. She gave the natives their due respects with the words 'they said that' before she explained Rodney fell into the machinery, but the way she said it made it clear to John she didn't believe it. Ronon wouldn't meet anyone's eyes and his knuckles were white from clenching his hands into fists. Elizabeth was worried at first, and then gradually went white as Teyla explained about the box, what it really was.

It was Rodney's coffin.

"Oh God," Elizabeth moaned, staring at the little box in obvious horror.

"Rather than…risk...an inappropriate incident," Teyla said very carefully without so much as nodding at either John or Ronon, "we decided it was best to return home. I would strongly recommend that we do not return to that world."

"No!" Elizabeth said, sounding disgusted by the thought. "God, no! No one is ever going back there. God, no…."

Zelenka looked as if he was going to be ill. Carson paled until John was surprised that he hadn't passed out. Lorne was white about the lips, but John thought he might have a wall of his own against the world, not that it was any of John's business. Elizabeth shuddered and looked away, arms crossed over her stomach.

"Terrible accident," muttered Carson, his Scottish brogue far more obvious than normal.

"No," John disagreed, making everyone start, even Teyla. "It wasn't an accident."

"What?" Elizabeth asked, staring at him.

John reached out and moved Rodney's box, setting it in the middle of the table. He took his GDO and put it approximately where the shield generator had been. Then he took off his radio link and set it where Rodney's puddle of blood had been. He took a pair of pens from Radek's pocket and laid them out like the guardrail that had been around the meat grinder.

"This," John tapped the box, "is the meat grinder. This is the shield generator. This is Rodney's blood. This is the guardrail. It was over waist-high."

Teyla reached out and placed a finger where she'd found Rodney's sleeve, on the other side of the shield generator, closer to the door and farther away from the meat grinder.

"This is where his sleeve was," Teyla said. Her voice was whisper-quiet, but held the steel of anger.

"That's…" Elizabeth's eyes widened as she started at the layout. "That's not possible. What's the scale?"

"Approximately three and a half yards between the shield generator and the meat grinder," John said, feeling like his throat was grinding up the words before they emerged. They stared at the layout for a long moment before Zelenka looked up with eyes full of pain.

"Murder?" Zelenka breathed, staring at the three of them.

John nodded, resting his chin on his hands and covering his lips so he wouldn't have to say more. Zelenka bolted for the bathroom and Carson followed him, looking like he might need it too. Lorne started cursing. Tears started running down Elizabeth's cheeks.

"We were mad at him," John heard his voice saying, his words monotone and bleak. "We were mad at him for being human, so we were punishing him by snubbing him, double-checking his work, ignoring him. How dare he be human when everyone was relying on him? So we ignored him, he wandered off to do his job, and he ended up dead because of it, because of us. He shouldn't have been alone. He shouldn't have been able to wander away without one of us attached to his side. We let him die...."

"John," interjected Teyla, a worried frown on her face.

"No, I'll be all right...eventually." John shook his head at her. "Just…not right now. Elizabeth, everyone's going to need some counseling on this. Not just us, most of the city will. Everyone knew Rodney. Everyone interacted with him. Everyone was disappointed and snubbing him, except Radek. You should warn Heightmeyer about this."

"I will," Elizabeth said, looking equally worried. "Are you sure you're going to be all right?"

"Not really," John said, mouth twisting in another not-smile. "I just let my best friend get murdered because I was angry at myself for letting him get out of control on Doranda. I was taking it out on him and he died for it. I think it'll be a little bit before I'm...." He stopped and took a deep breath. "We need to get some rest. Can you handle contacting the SGC to notify Rodney's family?"

"Of course," Elizabeth said, going green as she looked at the little box again. "Go on. We'll take care of this. And John, I want your team to talk to Kate, too."

"I know," John said with another not-smile. "We will, but not today."

He made it out of the conference room. He made it down the hallway. He managed to make sure that Teyla and Ronon would be all right. He even managed to make sure that Ronon wouldn't beat any of his marines to death. Then he walked back to his room and sealed the door. He intended to take off his shoes and collapse on the bed, but then he was sucked under in a wave of rage-streaked grief as strong as the ones he'd had after his mother had died. Once that washed away, he was too tired to do more than curl in a ball on the floor and drop into sleep.

~~~

John woke cold and aching. He thought for a moment that they were on a mission and had ended up spending the night out somewhere else, but Atlantis murmured quietly in the back of his mind and he shuddered, remembering. Rodney was gone. He didn't want to get up but he did. He'd lost people before. He'd dealt with it then, and he'd deal with it now.

John got up, grumbling under his breath about being sore and freezing to keep from thinking about Rodney. By the time he'd stripped out of his clothes, Atlantis had started his shower and set it for the perfect temperature and strength. He managed to handle cleaning up, shaved, and dressed. He put on his radio and went for breakfast. Everyone he passed wore a shell-shocked expression. None of them would meet his eyes for more than a second or two. In the mess, he had to stop himself from grabbing an extra cup of coffee for Rodney. Ronon showed up as he was trying to decide if he could eat, and Teyla showed up shortly afterward. None of them said anything as they picked at their food.

John did all the necessary paperwork, including his report on Rodney's death. He went to lunch and had to stop himself from taking a second dessert cup. He checked on his men after lunch. Dinner was a little more open. Teyla suggested an Athosian mourning ceremony. Ronon said he had a Satedan one he wanted to perform. John nodded and asked if they wanted to go to Earth for Rodney's funeral, to meet Rodney's family.

"Yes," Teyla said, smiling weakly through the tears gathering in her eyes.

"Yeah," Ronon said with a nod. He wouldn't meet either of their eyes.

John made it back to his room before the grief and rage overwhelmed him that night. He didn't have another panic attack, but the nightmares that descended once he fell asleep more than made up for it, not that he remembered any details when he woke. The next day and the next and the one after that were much the same. His emotional numbness sustained him when he was outside of his room. Atlantis tried hard to comfort him, making everything easier for him and sharing an almost painfully sympathetic sense of how much she'd lost too.

They took an empty coffin back through the gate in a ceremony that was excruciatingly pointless to John. It hurt so bad that there literally wasn't anything left of Rodney to put into the coffin. The drive from the mountain to the cemetery where Rodney would ostensibly be laid to rest took what seemed like an eternity. John stared out the front windshield, Teyla by his side, Ronon sitting in the front seat next to the driver assigned by O'Neill.

"Thank you for coming," Jeannie said when they arrived with Rodney's coffin. "Rodney spoke kindly of all of you in the message he sent to us a while back."

"You're welcome," John replied, his throat doing the word-grinding thing again. It hurt, and he couldn't seem to speak past the pain to add anything else.

Jeannie nodded and patted his arm, letting John stand close to her. Madison was on her left side and her husband held Madison's other hand. John held himself at attention through the ceremony, through the interment and afterwards as the Canadian flag that had draped Rodney's empty coffin was ceremoniously folded and brought to Jeannie. Teyla cried silently through the ceremony. Ronon loomed on his right side, looking like he wanted to hurt someone. Little Madison watched John the whole time, peering around her mother's black skirt to watch him with a concentrated frown. It felt to him as if she was seeing straight through him, in that way small children sometimes did. He tried to smile at her and knew he'd failed when she frowned even harder. Afterwards, Jeannie stopped John, Madison clinging silently to Jeannie's hand.

"Are you going to be all right?" Jeannie asked, looking at him. She seemed to see something more in his pain. John didn't know what it could be, so he shrugged.

"Eventually," John said, attempting something that was supposed to be a smile, but that he knew didn't look anything like one. "It's…he was my best friend. It's difficult."

He looked down as Madison tugged at his pant leg. She looked up at him with serious eyes that seemed to understand far too much for such a little girl. He knelt down, managing something closer to a smile for her. She'd just lost her uncle before she'd ever met him. Madison wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, burying her face in his neck. She smelled of baby shampoo and waffles with maple syrup.

"Hey," John said gently, a little surprised. He cuddled her as she shook her head and didn't let go. He looked up at Jeannie who smiled sadly.

"I hadn't spoken to Mer in years," Jeannie said. "I told Madison all about him, of course. He was my big brother and, despite the fact that we never got along that well, I did care about him. I always hoped that Madison would get to meet her Uncle Mer someday."

"Mer?" John asked, a real smile twitching around his lips.

"His real name was Meredith Rodney McKay," Jeannie said with a wry grin. "He hated it when I called him Mer but, well, he was my big brother. That's what little sisters do."

They shared a pained laugh. John wished he'd known Rodney's real name ages ago. He would have loved to tease him about it. That made his heart ache and he hugged Madison closer, cradling her in his lap. She was sweet and small and clung to him like a burr. After a bit, Madison pulled back a little, studying John with those too-serious eyes. He smiled at her, heart hurting at the thought that she'd never get to know the uncle she resembled so much. It seemed very sad that she would never get to hear him rant about the public education system. She'd never learn scientific facts from him. He might not have been good with kids, but John was sure that Rodney would have warmed up to his niece, especially since she didn't seem to be the normal flighty sort of little girl.

"Will you be my Uncle John since my Uncle Mer is gone?" Madison asked John quietly, bottom lip quivering as she anticipated rejection.

John's mouth opened, but no noise came out. The word grinder in his throat apparently decided nothing could pass. He nodded, his bottom lip quivering, too. She hugged him too tight again and John held her, rocking ever so slightly as the tears he'd been holding back by sheer force of will started spilling out. Jeannie knelt down in the grass and hugged them both. Teyla's hand rested on his back, and Ronon rubbed his shoulder as he cried into Madison's hair. It was humiliating as hell to break down in public this way, but Madison was crying too, little breathy sobs that broke John's heart, so he couldn't stop. Eventually, he was able control himself and nodded to the others that he'd be fine. Madison still wouldn't let go. They ended up heading over to Jeannie's house for dinner, because Madison burst into tears every time John said he needed to leave.

Teyla and Ronon told stories about Rodney at meals, his lectures to his coworkers in the lab, and his dislike of certain types of missions (not that they supplied details about what happened on those missions). Jeannie told stories of Rodney as a boy, how brilliant he'd been and how in awe of him she'd been. Madison ate dinner sitting in John's lap and fell asleep listening to the adults trading stories. John held her tight and, when it was time to leave, handed her over with more reluctance than he would have expected. He'd always liked kids in an abstract way, but Madison had as strong a grip on his heart as she had on his shirt. He left behind his dog tags for her so that she'd know that he'd be back someday to get them. He knew he could always get another set on the base when they returned.

"You can email me," John said as he wrote down his address. "It might take a while to get to me and a long time for me to reply but…well, if you want to. If Madison wants to."

"We'll write or send videos," Jeannie assured him with a smile and hug. "I'm glad we got to meet you all. I'm…glad that he found a home with you."

She seemed to see more in his grief than John would admit, more in their relationship. John half-smiled instead of saying anything he'd regret. Maybe it had been a home for Rodney, but John was convinced that it hadn't been a happy one, at least not right before he died. He'd failed Rodney, failed to support him, failed to protect him. He had to do better for Teyla and Ronon, and for Madison. He knew now that he couldn't save everyone, but he would save what was left of his family. He'd find a way to make sure he protected them.

~~~

It was a relief to get back to Atlantis a couple of weeks later, but the city seemed too empty to John. There was no Rodney in it. Life was going on for everyone else. Most of the people in Atlantis had reached the point where they didn't look as if they were in pain. Radek still had that strained look around his lips and eyes. Carson flinched every time he saw John, Teyla and Ronon. But everyone else, including Elizabeth, seemed to be determined to move on. Given all the threats against them it was the only thing they could do, no matter how hard John was finding it.

Morning meetings were painful. Rodney should be there, ignoring the others, ranting, being rude, and playing stupid games with John to pass the time. He wasn't and the absence hurt. John stayed quiet through the meetings for a few days, trying to get back into the swing of things. Madison's hugs lingered in his mind along with her little voice asking if he'd be her uncle. He wasn't sure why it was so important to him, but it was. Her request had become a huge thing in his life, though he still wasn't sure what to do about it. He'd written her four e-mails already, three on the ship and one once he'd arrived back at Atlantis. He'd never been that connected to his own brother. Hell, he'd never felt so connected to anyone before, other than Rodney, but that was different.

"John?" Elizabeth called to him as the meeting ended. "Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Sure," John said, nodding for Teyla and Ronon to go ahead without him.

She waited until everyone had left and the doors had shut before turning to John with a hesitant but determined expression. John could feel his shoulders tightening up. She wouldn't look like that unless it was something he didn't want to do, and the only thing he could think of right then that he really didn't want to do was to replace Rodney on the team.

"I know it's still very soon after Rodney's death," Elizabeth said carefully, confirming John's hunch, "but have you given any thought to his replacement? I don't expect you to go out into the field anytime soon, but you should be working on getting your team back together."

"I--!" John started to protest and then shut his mouth with a snap that hurt his teeth.

He shook his head, trying to figure out what he could say that wouldn't turn into a rage-filled explosion at Elizabeth. No one could replace Rodney. No one would ever be able to fill his place, but John knew that Elizabeth was right. Their team was incomplete and they were the alpha team for Atlantis. They needed to have a fourth member and they needed to get back in shape. Elizabeth waited silently while John wrestled with his anger and grief, watching him with far too much worry in her eyes.

"I haven't talked to Teyla and Ronon about it yet," John said, his throat doing that word-grinding thing again. "We just got back from the funeral, Elizabeth. Give us a little longer."

"All right," Elizabeth said, nodding. "I know it's...I just wanted to know if you'd thought about it."

John nodded and she let him leave. The day sucked after that. His thoughts were still stuck in spirals around Rodney's scream, the bloody pile of meat with bits of his equipment sticking out, and Madison's little face. He skipped lunch, spending an hour in the gym pounding on the punching bag. The afternoon was a little better, but not much. Dinner was a relief. He was too exhausted to be wrought up anymore. He settled into a chair at Teyla and Ronon's table, sighing.

"You okay?" Ronon asked, making a move to steal John's pudding.

"I guess," John said, giving it to him. He almost laughed at Ronon's disgust that he relinquished the pudding without a fight.

"Is there something that we can help you with?" Teyla asked, studying him.

John winced, sighing. He ate a few bites of the mystery meat meatloaf and then nodded. They looked a little shocked, which didn't surprise him. He'd been trying to do everything for them since Rodney had died, so John needing their help was a change.

"Elizabeth asked who we're going to take on to replace Rodney," John said in the most neutral voice he could manage, which meant it turned out to be vicious and sarcastic.

"Ah," Teyla said with a nod and little sigh.

"Don't want to," Ronon growled, stabbing his meatloaf with his fork.

"If we want to get out in the field again, then we have to add someone else to the team," John said tiredly. "I know that whoever we choose can't replace Rodney, but they can bring something new to the team. It's necessary."

They ate in silence for a while, none of them showing much interest in their food. Ronon ate like a machine. Teyla picked at her food. John took a few bites and then stopped, staring out over the city to the sea. It was the busiest time for dinner, but no one took the fourth chair at the table until Radek came over hesitantly.

"Is okay if I join you?" Radek asked. "There is nowhere else to sit."

"Sure," John said, nodding his approval. "We're just being gloomy."

"Ah, the 'choose a new member for your team' thing," Radek said, nodding sagely. "Elizabeth has consulted with me on it, and I said she must ask you. Is your team. Must be your decision."

"Thanks," John said, smiling at him.

Apparently, he'd managed a real smile because Radek smiled back and then ducked his head to study his food. Radek frowned, poking his meatloaf with great suspicion. He took a tiny bite from one corner and sniffed it, then ate it as if it was going to poison him. John hadn't noticed him doing that before and, in his exhaustion, it amused him.

"Sorry," Radek said, blushing faintly as he started eating normally. "Was very strange meatloaf while you were gone. Made me and a dozen others quite ill for days. This is not it."

"Glad we missed it then," John said, sipping his coffee.

They ate in silence for a while and then John sighed, setting his mug down to look at Radek. Ronon had just gotten back with seconds, and Teyla was finally actually eating her food. John still had half of his food on his tray, but eating it wasn't in the cards. He was too upset to eat the rest tonight.

"Any suggestions on scientists for our team?" John asked Radek, making them all start with surprise. "Hey, I'm coming up blank here. Some names would be helpful."

"I will go through the roster and give you some suggestions," Radek said, with a little smile that looked happier than any John had seen on him since Rodney died. "I do not know who would be best. You are quite harsh with your teammates and your missions are always…interesting? Is not the right word, but is close. Most will not wish to do it."

"What about you?" Teyla asked, raising an eyebrow at Radek. "Would you do it? You have the best knowledge of Ancient devices of anyone in the city."

"Me?" Radek squawked, alarmed. He stared at them all, looking horrified. "No, no, no! I have too much work to do. So much that is leftover from Rodney's…so much to do. It is not possible. No. I will find someone else. Yes, that is much better."

"Well," John said, fighting a smile at Radek's comic dismay, "let us know who you're thinking of, and we'll see what works out."

~~~

In the end, it turned out to be Radek who joined their team. None of the scientists that Radek suggested meshed with their personalities. None of them could deal with the prospect of danger or training required. Radek hated it and made it perfectly clear that he hated it, but he slid into Rodney's vacated position fairly smoothly. John made a point of not treating him like Rodney. The teasing was different and the jokes changed. Ronon relaxed quickly and actually became quite protective of Radek, staying by his side during all of their training and then on their first mission together. It was a good thing because apparently using your native language while looking at an Ancient device in a village's 'temple' could be taken as muttering black curses against the inhabitants of the village.

"Don't use Czech!" John panted as they ran for the gate, arrows flying over their heads and whizzing around their ears.

"Yes, I understand that now!" Radek yelled back at him, face white as he ran.

Radek shouted as an arrow struck him in the leg, but Ronon was there, scooping Radek up and carrying him to the gate that Teyla had already dialed. They made it through and back to Atlantis with arrows flying around their heads to clatter on the floor in Atlantis. Carson did a great job removing the fortunately un-poisoned arrow, and Elizabeth teased him about joining the list of injured on SGA-1. John had to leave the infirmary and go to his room. When Radek had started to fall before the gate, his shout wasn't what had echoed in John's ears. He'd heard Rodney's final scream, and the pain that had finally started to fade had surged back so abruptly that John thought he'd been shot too.

His door opened and Teyla walked in, sitting on the bed next to John. She didn't say anything. Neither did he. Eventually, she wrapped an arm around his back and he rested his head against her shoulder. John didn't ask her if she had heard Rodney's dying screams when Radek was hurt. She didn't ask him anything. She held him and waited until he sighed and relaxed, then held him some more until he pulled back, control restored.

"You will be all right now?" Teyla asked, smiling at him with that particularly serene expression.

"Yeah," John said, his smile a little crooked. "I just needed a break. Thanks."

"You are always welcome, John," Teyla replied and stood. At the door, she paused, looking back at him. "You might wish to check on Radek. He expressed some concern that you were distressed with his performance."

"I'll head over there now," sighed John as he stood.

Radek was studying something on his PDA when John arrived at the infirmary. Ronon was sitting guard, watching over him in a chair that he'd tipped back to rest against the wall. Ronon raised an eyebrow at John. John made a face and shrugged. Ronon seemed to understand, but then he always seemed to get things. John was pretty sure that Ronon was one hell of a lot smarter than he acted. Radek didn't seem to notice John hovering at the edge of his curtained off bed. He looked fine. There was a bandage on one thigh and he had an IV but, other than that, he was just like always.

"How you doing?" John asked.

"Ah, fine, fine," Radek answered, startled. He set his PDA aside. "I am sorry for the mission, Colonel."

"That's 'John,'" John corrected. "Or at least 'Sheppard.' It's okay. At least you didn't outright insult them the moment we walked into the village. How were we to know that they'd react that way to your language? It happens. Don't worry about it."

"If you are sure it is all right?" Radek said, looking hugely relieved.

"You did fine," John said, patting Radek's shoulder. "Try and get some rest. Carson'll take that away if you don't."

Radek smiled with relief, and then looked improbably fierce at the threat to his PDA. They talked for a few minutes about what Radek thought he'd seen in the temple before they'd been chased away by the villagers. When John turned around to leave, Ronon had disappeared. John thought that Ronon must have stayed to reassure Radek that it was okay, that he wasn't about to be thrown off of the team. John sighed. Another person to add to his mental list of 'must be protected' but it was okay. It was his team, so he'd manage it. He wrote Madison a letter about Radek's accent, and described how they'd had a little scare because of it. There weren't any details to cause security issues, so he placed it in the transmission queue for Earth.

~~~

It seemed as if it had only been a couple of days since Rodney's death when John received an e-mailed video from Madison. "It's been six months," Madison said, playing with her pigtails as she looked at the camera. She was sitting in Jeannie's lap. "Mommy says the owie goes away in time. So I wanted to know if your owie over Uncle Mer went away yet. I hope so, Uncle John. I love you and I know Uncle Mer loved you too."

She kissed her palm and put it to the camera, smiling at John when she pulled it away. John swallowed hard against the lump in his throat and the tears in his eyes. Madison squirmed in Jeannie's arms. "Come visit again soon, Uncle John," she ordered. "I wanna give you lots of hugs and have you tell me stories. We can make cookies and play with trains and you can tell me about planes and how they go zoom up in the air until you see rainbows that are round."

She waved goodbye and then jumped down from Jeannie's lap. Jeannie's eyes were shining as she said their goodbyes. John's eyes were wet when he shut off his computer. The little girl tore his heart out every time he got one of her messages. He was a little late getting to the gate for their latest mission, but he didn't want to show up with tears in his eyes. He could tell that the others knew something was up. Radek frowned at him, Ronon raised an eyebrow, and Teyla put her hand on his shoulder and cocked her head.

"Message from Madison," was all that John said. They all nodded and it was okay. They knew by now what Madison's messages did to him.

PX4-065 was the most mountainous planet John had ever seen. The village they arrived in was literally in the side of a mountain. The people lived in buildings cut into the living rock because every square inch of arable land was precious. Mountains towered over their heads and extended as far as you could see down the long glacier-carved valley. It was crisp and cold with just a hint of snow in the air.

"What are these people like?" Radek asked, being very careful with his accent and enunciating all of his words properly. He still hadn't gotten over that first mission.

"I have not been here in several years," Teyla said with a comforting smile in his direction, "but they are an enlightened people. They believe that strength comes from understanding oneself, and many of their practices encourage sharing deep truths. They are fierce warriors as well, frequently fighting amongst themselves, but such combat is never extended to visitors to their world. It is for gaining position among themselves."

"Deep truths?" Ronon asked, raising an eyebrow.

Teyla didn't have a chance to answer. The leader of the village appeared from one of the doors cut into the mountainside. John immediately had a very bad feeling. The men flanking him seemed nervous and a little frightened of the leader, hanging back. Many of them had bruises on their faces, necks or wrists. The leader was a little bigger than Ronon, and about half a hand wider in the shoulder. He didn't look like someone who had any sort of inner strength to John. He looked like a thug.

"I am Mexas," the villager's leader proclaimed, smirking at them. "You are welcome in our village. What can we do for you?"

"We are seeking trade agreements," Teyla said, bowing to him. She didn't look like she was particularly pleased about meeting Mexas. "I had thought that Lenox was leader of this village."

"He was weak and I took his place," Mexas replied snidely. "Please come inside. We shall have the Sharing and speak of trade."

"Sharing?" John asked in an undertone as Mexas turned and headed inside again. All of his men scurried out of Mexas' way, quite a few of them glaring at his back.

"It is a drug," Teyla answered, frowning. "It is normally kept for special occasions as it encourages the recipient to dream, and then one shares what he has seen in his dreams. I find it quite odd that he would want this. It is not addictive, nor particularly hazardous, but it does cause one to sleep and dream quite vividly."

They went inside, John and Ronon protecting Radek, who seemed to be a thousand times twitchier than normal. Mexas' apparent wife had a split lip and a black eye. She looked as if she wanted to knife him but didn't dare. The inside of the houses were actually much nicer than John had expected, with good ventilation and electric lights of some sort. The team was escorted to a dining room for a feast, Mexas watching them with eyes that suggested bad things to John.

"When you are done, we will begin the Sharing," Mexas declared as dessert was served.

"Yeah, about that," John said, looking at him with a smile he hoped came off at least as sincere as Mexas'. "We have some issues with all four of us sleeping at once. You know how it is. You don't want to have the whole group down at the same time."

"Also, I have already been through the Sharing," Teyla said with a nearly respectful nod. "I did not think that it was allowed to do it twice."

"Then you have your guard," Mexas said, nodding to Teyla, though he glared as he did so.

"Um, no," John said, his smile forced. "One for one, I'm afraid. Sorry, but that's the rules we have to live by. Two of us can do it. That's it."

"I see," Mexas said, his smile at least twice as forced as John's was. "Well, if those are the rules you must abide by, then I suppose we must abide by them too. You will, of course, be one of the two to participate in the Sharing?"

"Yeah," John said, growling mentally. He had to. He sure as hell wasn't going to let Ronon and Radek do it and watch them suffer bad dreams.

"I'll do it," Ronon said, putting a protective hand on Radek's shoulder. "Don't want Radek all muddle-headed. Too much for him to do when we get back."

John flashed a glare at Ronon; he was the strongest fighter they had. He wasn't going to allow it, and then he saw the blind relief in Radek's eyes and gave up the fight before it began. Mexas seemed to be happy that Ronon volunteered, which matched up with John's opinion that the leader was up to something wrong. The rest of his people watched him with disgust that they hid pretty well. He was perverting something, though John had no idea what it could be. What did he have to gain from learning their dreams?

They were shown to a bedroom with beds that were part of the walls. John sighed and tugged off his boots, staying fully clothed. He consented to remove his vest after he found out he'd be dreaming for at least two or three hours. The drug itself was bitter and made him want to hurl, but Teyla was there guarding the door and Ronon took it without comment. Radek scanned to make sure that there weren't any devices in the beds or trickery going on. It seemed like one of those standard Pegasus trust things so John went with it. The drug hit quick, despite his stomach full of food, making the room spin so badly that Radek had to help him lie down.

"Don't let them come in here and take anyone away," John tried to say to Teyla, but the words came out more like "donn le em gom in ere an ake anywa'a away." He blinked, trying to make his tongue work better and then he was asleep.

It was all black at first, and then John could hear a voice yammering away at him. It was so familiar that it hurt and yet it was such a fucking relief to have that voice in his ear again. They were in Atlantis and they were walking down a hall. Rodney was gesturing and complaining and it was so familiar, so right. John wanted to say something, but Rodney was going on and on so he let the words wash over him and went with it.

"Seriously," Rodney said in his most peeved tone of voice, "It's been six months. I would have thought that you'd be over dreaming about me by now. You have to admit it's a little pathetic to need these dreams so badly, John. Oh wait, that's right, I never actually managed to call you John, did I? Sorry, this must be the wrong dream. This must be the dream where we rip each other's clothes off and make mad passionate love. You are so repressed. The sad thing is that no matter how many times you have this stupid dream you're not going to remember it."

Rodney huffed at him and rolled his eyes, but now they were somewhere else, at the gravesite with little Madison clinging to John's leg, and Rodney was as transparent as a ghost.

"You loved him, didn't you, Uncle John?" Madison asked with those big blue eyes and little girl's voice. "That's why you're my Uncle John, too."

"See, even a three-year-old child gets this!" Rodney huffed, waving his transparent hands at the two of them.

They were in John's bedroom in his father's home now, watching John's younger self get dressed for dinner. He made a face at himself and stood to walk downstairs, and then they were watching together, both he and Rodney as ghosts this time.

"Now this dream," Rodney snarled in a voice that surprised John with its anger, "this one always annoys the living hell out of me. What sort of family is this? Silence at the dinner table and nothing but hostility to share with each other. Sure, sure, there was plenty of hostility in my family, but at least we yelled at each other. There was some interaction. You might as well have been living alone when you were in this house. I'd have hit that old man, laid one right on him if I'd gotten the chance."

Rodney turned to John, reaching out a hand that felt all too real. He ran his fingers over John's cheek, rubbing against the perennial stubble and smiling as his thumb brushed over John's bottom lip oh-so-gently.

"I'd have loved to lay one on you," Rodney said, and suddenly it is one of 'those' dreams, one where they're naked and together and have always loved one another instead of just being best friends. "I wish I could have had the chance to do this in real life."

The Rodney in his dreams sighed sadly as Mexas pulled him away from John, passing Rodney over to the priest-leader of that god-forsaken world where he died. Mexas put a hand against John's shoulder, shaking him with a big, big smile. John didn't see him, didn't pay any attention to him. He was too busy watching the priest-leader pull out a knife and stab Rodney in the heart.

"See, this is why you keep forgetting your dreams," Rodney said sadly, as blood poured out of his mouth. "You're never going to get over me until you realize what you felt for me, John."

Rodney toppled over into a huge meat-grinding machine that seemed to be alive. He fell headfirst, but his feet somehow managed to go in first so Rodney screamed in John's dream, that horrible scream that has been haunting him awake and asleep for six long, miserable months. The scream cuts off just before Rodney's head went through the grinder.

"He's going to kill you too, you know," Rodney said in that calm, conversational tone of voice. "You and Ronon and Teyla and Radek are all going to die unless you do something. I don't want you to die, John. Do something. Will you get off your ass and do something already?"

Mexas shook John's shoulder and he blinked up at him, seeing a knife and hearing words, but not understanding them. John twisted and shoved Mexas away, swinging to his feet and stepping towards Mexas. He towered over John, but it didn't really matter. This was another part of the dream and Rodney was still screaming though his voice was in a higher register as his head went through the meat grinder at last. Mexas yelled something and waved a hand at John. John took one step closer and then smashed the heel of his hand into Mexas' nose, shoving the broken fragments of bone up into his brain. Rodney's screaming stopped suddenly as Mexas toppled over backwards. John swayed, smiling as Rodney appeared at his right, though he was wearing glasses and his hair had grown out into a fuzzy halo.

"There, I took care of it, Rodney," John said and fell back into the dreams again.

Rodney rolled his eyes as John settled back onto the bed and put his head into Rodney's lap. Rodney's fingers caressed John's hair, playing with the cowlicks. John smiled and snuggled in, relieved that the dream had changed, that he wasn't seeing Rodney dying again.

"Well, that was moderately effective," Rodney said, snorting at him in amusement. "Not particularly elegant, but effective."

"Are you really here?" John asked, blinking up at Rodney.

"Of course I'm not here, you moron!" Rodney snorted. "I'm quite dead. You're drugged out of your mind and having hallucinations. You're dreaming about me, just like you've been dreaming about me since I died."

"Oh," John sighed sadly. "I was hoping you were real."

"No, I'm not real," Rodney grumbled, running his fingers through John's hair and playing with the cowlicks. "Sorry."

"Would have been nice if you were," John muttered as he drifted into a deeper sleep. "Could have told you that I love you."

When he woke up, all John felt was nausea. He fought it for a long while, dragging painful breaths through his teeth so that his stomach would stop heaving. It didn't work. He rolled over and started heaving into a bucket that someone placed in just the right spot. He could hear Teyla saying something soothing as his stomach emptied itself and then kept on heaving. Eventually, after his throat felt raw and his sides ached, his stomach stopped rebelling. Teyla wiped his mouth and helped him lie back on the bed.

"You have returned to us?" Teyla asked, watching his eyes.

"Wish I hadn't," John replied, his mouth sour from vomiting. "Ugh."

"Ronon woke about half an hour ago," Teyla said. "Mexas used too strong of a dose to encourage you and Ronon to speak more than your dreams when you were waking."

"Damn it," John growled, trying to sit and groaning at how much his stomach hurts. "What did I tell him?"

"Nothing," Teyla said, something like awe in her eyes though her lips are twitching with amusement. "He shook you awake and you shoved him away from you. Then you stood and killed him with a single blow. The others were…quite impressed, especially since you went back to sleep immediately. I told them that you are prone to sleepwalking, and they accepted that it was Mexas' mistake not to ask first. Giving the Sharing drug with those who sleepwalk is apparently a something of a dangerous choice."

"I do," John said, surprised. "Well, I did. I haven't for years, not since I was little after my mom died, but yeah, I actually do sleepwalk."

"Then I am pleased that I did not lie," Teyla said, eyes sparkling with laughter. "Rest. I must check on Ronon. Radek has gone to report to Elizabeth, and food shall be brought shortly. Mexas' second has taken his place, and I believe things will be much better now. He seems to be a good man, unlike Mexas."

He couldn't eat the food that Radek brought in, but he did sip at some broth. He even managed to keep it down. Ronon looked nearly as flattened as John, though he hadn't been hit quite as hard by the dose given how much larger he was. After about two hours of resting and listening to the others complain and worry, John dragged himself to his feet. He headed towards the door, grateful that his legs were cooperating reasonably well. He was wobbly, but it wasn't so bad that he'd head back to bed.

"Perhaps you should rest a bit longer," Teyla said, intercepting him before he could reach the door.

"Teyla, unless you've got a toilet in here somewhere, I really do need to get up," John said, startling her into a laugh. "I'm all right. Sore and a little wobbly, but all right."

Radek accompanied John, projecting a sort of fierce protectiveness that was almost amusing. He looked like he was ready to shoot anyone who got close, which seemed very odd to John. Fuzzy-headed, bespectacled Radek didn't normally strike John as being fierce over anything but science and Ancient technology. Once he saw the way the villagers reacted to him, John thought he understood a little better why Radek and Teyla were being so over-protective.

Everyone who saw him looked at him with awe and fear in his or her eyes. Most of them looked away instantly, as if afraid that he'd strike them down for having dared look him in the face. John wobbled his way to the toilet, took care of his business and then wobbled straight back to the room. Teyla was helping Ronon with his knives. John sighed as he sat on the bed.

"Okay, what the hell?" John asked, hooking a thumb at the door. "Why is everyone reacting like that?"

Teyla, Ronon and Radek exchanged glances. Apparently, Teyla was elected to explain why, sitting down next to John while Radek grunted as he supported Ronon during his trip to the toilet. Teyla waited until they'd left and then turned to John, face studiously blank.

"What?" John asked, raising an eyebrow.

"It is…very rare for one who has been given the Sharing drug to have the capacity to move," Teyla explained slowly, as if she was choosing every word. It was as if they were precious and she didn't want to give away the wrong ones. "The most that is normally possible is to wave an arm or kick a leg. Few are coherent enough to be able to sit up. Almost no one has the strength to stand. You had sufficient control of yourself to push Mexas away, sit up, stand, and then kill him. You managed to walk back to bed and curled up with your head in my lap. It is a great feat, whether you remember it or not."

"Seriously?" John said, feeling his cheeks and ears turning red as a blush crept up his face. "Um, did I say anything coherent?"

"No," Teyla said, looking at him with a puzzled expression. "You mumbled something several times but the only thing that you said moderately clearly was something about taking care of something for Rodney."

"Oh, good," John said, relieved. He sighed, leaning back against the stone wall of his bed's cubby. "So um, how does this sharing thing work? You dream and then tell everyone what you figured out or just one person or what?"

"You may choose to tell whomever you wish," Teyla said with a little smile. "You may choose one person or many. The point is to share what you have learned during your dreams."

"Hmm, I'll have to think about it, but you're probably on the list of people to tell," John said thoughtfully. "Still thinking about it."

Teyla smiled as if greatly honored. They both looked at the door as Radek and Ronon came back in. Ronon was looking better, not quite as wobbly, but he was still leaning heavily on Radek's shoulder. Radek helped Ronon back to his bed-cubby and then glared when a younger man poked his head into the room. He glanced at them and when his eyes rested on John they went wide with awe and fear. John squirmed uncomfortably. This was going to get old really quick. The man came in and bowed respectfully to John. Yeah, going to get old very quick.

"I beg your pardon for intruding," he said. "I am Sadas, the new leader of our village. I came to apologize for Mexas' behavior. He was so powerful in combat that we were not able to defeat him and remove him from power."

"Yeah, I kind of got that feeling," John said, pulling himself upright and leaning on Teyla's shoulder so his legs didn't fold underneath him. "There any problems with what I did while I was dreaming?"

"No," Sadas said, staring at John in obvious amazement. "You are…quite…strong, aren't you?"

"Nope, just too stubborn for my own good," John said with a wry little grin. "Look, I want to go for a walk. Care to come along?"

Radek and Teyla protested but, in the end, John won. Sadas and he walked out of the building and headed out to the edge of the village, close to where the terraced fields started. The air was cold and crisp, with that hint of snow coming. There were clouds slowly blowing up the valley towards them and John could see sheets of snow falling from them. They'd need to get back to Atlantis soon, but he wanted to talk and he wasn't sure what to say to his team. A sympathetic outsider seemed like a good alternative, especially since he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Kate.

"This is far enough," John said, sitting down on the edge of one of the stone terraces. "Just didn't want people listening to what I had to say."

"You intend to complete the Sharing?" Sadas said, surprised.

"Yeah," John said with a shrug. "I need to figure it out and talking about it might help."

"I am honored," Sadas said, sitting next to him.

They sat in silence for a while, John watching the clouds and snow drifting closer. Sadas seemed prepared to wait for however long it took John to find the words he needed. John sorted through the dreams and the things Rodney had said, and eventually sighed.

"My team," John began, looking at his clenched hands. They'd gone white at the knuckles so he shook them loose. "My team had a different person in Radek's place six months ago. He'd joined the team when we first founded it. Worked with us, kept us from doing stupid shit. Rodney. Good guy. He was killed six months ago on another world. Fixed a shield for the natives and they murdered him for it. Put him through a huge meat grinder for blasphemy or something."

"By the Ancestors, why?" Sadas asked, horrified.

"No clue," John admitted, shrugging. "We were…too angry and hurt to find out once we realized what had happened. Would have killed everyone. He wouldn't have wanted that."

Sadas made a grumbling noise, settling down to wait for John to continue. By the time John had sorted out the next set of words he wanted to say, the snow was starting to fall around them, big fluffy flakes that drifted like cotton balls out of the sky. John smiled at it, thinking that Rodney would have been complaining and delighted at the same time.

"When I was young," John continued, "I lost my mom in a stupid accident and I reacted to it badly. I started sleepwalking, having a hard time dealing with my anger. Later, I joined the military and, in a place called Afghanistan, lost some of my best friends ever. I went a little crazy and some innocent people died. Part of the punishment for that was ending up in a place called Antarctica where I met Rodney. Everything changed after I met him. There was adventure, new worlds to see, lots to do. Some of it was bad, some of it was good, but my life totally changed when I met him."

"He was important to you." Sadas nodded encouragingly.

"Yeah," John said with a sigh. "My best friend. Best friend I ever had. But, see, my people have this thing, especially in the military, that two guys can't be more than friends. Rodney never seemed to want more, and I never thought about it. Not possible, not appropriate, so yeah. Nothing ever happened. And I'm really bad at relationships, too."

"That makes no sense to me," Sadas said with a confused shake of his head. "But continue. This is your Sharing."

"That was me working out what I think," John laughed, grinning as he stood and brushed the snow off his hair and clothes. "Let's head back inside. Cold out here."

They headed back to the town, walking slowly out of respect for John's legs and his tumbling thoughts. Sadas waved the villagers off, making sure that they left room for John to think. They ended up on a covered balcony not that far from the room he'd slept in. John leaned on the rail, looking out over the valley that was being covered with snow.

"I was married once," John said as Sadas settled by his side. "Nancy. Beautiful woman. I had no clue that she was interested in me until she kissed me one night. We dated, eventually got married, and then one day she showed up and demanded a divorce. I had no clue that was coming either. I never had a single nightmare after she left. I've been having nightmares I couldn't remember ever night for the last six months since Rodney died."

"Did you remember them this time?" Sadas asked, not very surprised by that.

"Yeah," John said, shaking his hands loose again. "I did. I was dreaming Rodney. Important times, important conversations, things I'd wished had happened, and then his death. Mexas tried to wake me up right when Rodney was being killed in my dream. He took Rodney away from me and passed him to the priest that killed him, ground his body up for meat. So I got up and killed Mexas. Rodney kept saying that Mexas would kill me, kill all of my team. Was that true?"

Sadas winced, his knuckles going white as his hands clenched the railing. His silence was answer enough so John nodded, sighing. They stood in silence for a long while, listening to the quiet sound of the snowflakes hitting the stone around them, that little icy shimmer that John had almost forgotten while in Atlantis. It was still and quiet outside as the villagers had tunnels connecting their houses. He could hear little noise from inside but, outside, it was as though they were the only people in the world.

"I loved him," John said eventually, making Sadas start because they'd been silent for so long. "I never realized it. I never realized how much I loved him until he was gone and, even then, I couldn't admit it to myself unless I was dreaming. Then I had to forget the dreams when I woke up."

"I am sorry," Sadas said with deep regret in his voice. "No one should be forced to face something like that against his will."

"It's okay," John said, smiling a little sideways, crooked smile at him. "I was getting close to being able to admit it to myself I think. And there's no way I could have gotten over the anger at Rodney's death if I didn't realize why I was so mad all the time. It's…better this way. Mexas may have done it for the wrong reasons, but I think it helped me anyway."

Sadas looked utterly relieved. They talked about nothing for a little while longer but it was getting cold, and they'd been out talking for a couple of hours, so John headed back inside to check on his team. Ronon was up and ready to go. Radek looked like he wanted to get the hell out of there. Teyla was visibly relieved to see him, but cocked her head at him as she studied his face.

"You look more at ease, my friend," Teyla said.

"Yeah, this Sharing thing isn't all that bad," John said with a shrug. "At least when it's not being misused. Let's head home. I told Sadas that we'd come back in a while to talk trade. He's got a lot of stuff to clean up before they're ready on their side."

Elizabeth was horrified about the drugging. Carson made John and Ronon spend the night in the infirmary. John remembered his dreams this time, but they were different. The dream Rodney seemed resigned to John forgetting him, and John realized that it was probably going to happen. He checked with Elizabeth about Rodney's room a few days later and was surprised to find that not even Kavanagh had wanted it. Everyone had some excuse, but it boiled down to no one wanting to take the place that had belonged to Rodney. The next Team night, John sighed quietly, munching popcorn as Radek set up the movie.

"You're doing better," Ronon said, stealing popcorn from the bowl.

"Yeah," John said with a little smile. "Took getting drugged for me to realize I was in love with Rodney."

Radek fumbled the DVD and nearly dropped it. Teyla raised an eyebrow at him and rolled her eyes. Ronon just stole the bowl of popcorn. Radek started the movie and gave John a look that was half appalled and half amused before sitting on the floor in front of them.

"You were both appallingly bad at romance, Sheppard," Radek said huffily. "Everyone but you and Rodney knew that you loved each other."

"He…?" John said, his throat doing the word-grinding thing again for the first time in months.

"Of course," Radek said sympathetically. "From first time you sat on chair in Antarctica. Was quite obvious. Very sad that neither of you possessed as much romance as is given to a rock. Would have been quite touching to watch."

John didn't know what movie they watched. He sat in the dark and let Teyla rub his leg. Ronon wrapped an arm around his shoulder and Radek leaned back against his legs, anchoring him against the waves of sorrow that swept over him. By the time it was over, he'd managed to get his emotions back under control. He sent a video email to Madison and Jeannie the next day, telling them about the Sadas' village, and how the snow had made that sound that was so impossible to describe, but then they got snow there so he knew Madison knew that sound. He told Madison at the end of the message that he thought he might be getting over the owie finally, but that it was slow because he'd cared so much about Rodney. He left it at that, not wanting to get in trouble with the military. He was sure that it was enough for Jeannie to understand, and she'd explain to Madison.

~~~

John smiled at Elizabeth as they got ready for another mission two months later, joking with her as they waited for Radek to get out of the labs and down to the gate. It had gotten easier over the last couple of months. The dreams were still there, still sad, but not as painful. John could still remember everything about Rodney: the way his mouth twisted when he tried to smile, the wild hand gestures that you had to duck every so often, the pitch and timbre of his voice as he ranted. It didn't hurt as much though. The pain wasn't as if he'd been stabbed through the heart. It was more the hurt of an injury that would never heal fully and that would be with him for the rest of his life. He was getting used to it. Now, if only the meat grinder dreams would go away, John would be happy.

The alarms started whooping as the gate activated on its own. Elizabeth and John exchanged looks and ran for the controls where Chuck was staring at the computer. Teyla and Ronon went on alert watching the gate and John in equal measures.

"It's…ma'am, sir," blurted Chuck, his voice shaking, "it's Doctor McKay's IDC. It's valid."

"What?" John snapped, feeling his heart stop cold in his chest. "That's impossible!"

"I know," Chuck said, fingers flying over the keyboard. "I've checked it twice. Three times. It's valid, sir. Someone must have stolen it from him."

"What if it's real?" Elizabeth whispered, staring at the gate shield. "What if it's Rodney?"

John's heart leaped back into life, pounding against his sternum. He tried to say something, but nothing would come out for a long moment. Once his voice cooperated, he got on the radio and ordered the marines in on the double. Carson showed up at a run with Radek in tow. John and Elizabeth came down to the gate as Chuck lowered the shield and sent the all clear to whomever it was that had Rodney's GDO.

It couldn't be Rodney, John thought, feeling hot and cold, afraid and elated all at once. It couldn't be. But, they never had seen his body. They hadn't performed any DNA analysis on the ground meat. They'd found smashed equipment and torn clothes. There hadn't been a body. Maybe, just maybe, it really was Rodney. But it couldn't be Rodney!

It seemed to take forever for the person with Rodney's GDO to step through the event horizon. At first, John's eyes refused to believe it was Rodney. The man was too thin in the wrong clothes, a strange huge coat billowing around his body, but his eyes were Rodney's snapping blue eyes as he stared around the gate room with so much joy and awe. His mouth had Rodney's downturn on one side as he saw the marine's with their guns drawn. He'd changed, but John could still recognize him. It was Rodney.

"You're alive," John said, his voice shaking harder than his body. "You're alive."

"Mostly," Rodney said with that damned 'please don't be mad at me' smile that he'd been wearing before he'd been killed. "I really need to see Carson. You would not believe the crap they put in my veins."

John pushed past the marines who were standing down anyway, staring into Rodney's eyes as if he was going to drown in that blue that he had never been able to forget. He wasn't sure that he hadn't already drowned. John pulled Rodney into a fierce hug, shaking so hard that he could barely feel Rodney's much thinner frame in his arms. He kept his hands on Rodney's shoulders and stepped back, staring at him.

It was Rodney. Rodney was back. John couldn't get past that thought as a wild urge to kiss Rodney swept through him. He wanted to so badly, but Teyla was pulling Rodney away for the Athosian head bump thing and then a hug. Ronon took his turn until Rodney spluttered and shoved Ronon away.

"Damn it, listen to me, people!" Rodney snapped. "They put some damned poison in me and I'm serious. I need to see Carson and let him work his voodoo on me. I'm not sure how much longer I've got."

"Same old Rodney," John quipped, relieved that even after eight months on his own Rodney was still Rodney with the same old hypochondria. His relief changed to pure horror as Rodney held up his left hand and let his sleeve slide up his arm.

Rodney's hand reminded John of the pictures he'd seen of victims of the Holocaust survivors. John could see every bone, every vein, and every ligament. His knees went weak as he realized that Rodney meant it this time. They had just gotten Rodney back and there was a chance that they'd lose him again. John and Ronon grabbed Rodney (and John's fingers were able to curl all the way around Rodney's bicep, the fingertips touching) and hustled him off to Carson who swept Rodney away to the infirmary.

"I can't believe you people," Rodney complained as they hustled him down the hallways past the staring occupants of Atlantis. "The greatest genius in two galaxies and you don't do a thing to try and find me. I'm kidnapped, have almost all my things stolen from me, and then you blithely fly away and write me off? What's up with that? I mean really, you just abandon me on a world where they think it's a good idea to mainline dangerous drugs and couldn't you have at least tried to scan a time or two?"

As Rodney complained, John found himself relaxing. His shoulders unknotted and his stomach relaxed. The background tension he'd been carrying for eight months began to fade. The wash of Rodney's words left John happier than he'd been since Doranda. If Rodney had the strength to complain this loudly for this long, he was doing better than John had feared. Rodney complained through the hallways. He complained as they got him stripped in the infirmary (and he was every bit as skinny as John had been afraid but it was his left arm that was the worst). He complained as Carson tsked, took blood samples, and scanned him. John ended up grinning so broadly that his face hurt. Elizabeth was standing next to John when Teyla came in with a tray of food that made Rodney coo with delight.

"Sit still!" Carson barked at Rodney.

"Aren't you done yet?" squawked Rodney, his eyes locked on the food that Teyla held. "Come on, Carson. There will be time for scans later. She brought pudding!"

Carson made Rodney sit through another scan (John was halfway convinced that he added another round just because of Rodney's complaints) before finally letting him start eating. John had almost forgotten the porn noises that Rodney made when he ate food that he liked. John had to fight a blush and an erection just watching Rodney eat.

"What? You don't have anything else to do?" Rodney snapped huffily once he slowed down enough to notice them watching him. "Go on. Do your jobs. I have pudding to eat and then I'm taking a nap in this torture device Carson calls a bed. Shoo."

John let Elizabeth and Teyla pull him out of the infirmary. Rodney watched him go with something very like amusement in his eyes. John grinned back at him as Teyla tugged him out of the room.

"He's lost so much weight," Elizabeth worried as she walked with John back to the offices.

"I know," John said with a frown. "I didn't expect that. I mean, it's better than dead, but for him to be so thin…I hope Carson figures out what caused it."

"He will," Elizabeth said, putting a reassuring hand on John's shoulder. "Carson will take care of him, John. Carson is his friend. He won't rest until he figures out what happened and fixes it."

"Yeah," John agreed, smiling. It felt like a weak smile but Elizabeth accepted it. John went to his office to try to do some paperwork. He couldn't focus on it. John tried to read, but then he'd start thinking about Rodney before he'd managed more than a sentence or two. He couldn't believe that Rodney was alive. He'd seen him, held him, heard him complaining, but it still wasn't quite real. After an hour and a half of spiraling thoughts and very little constructive work, Rodney's scream as he was shoved into the meat grinder was echoing through John's head, and he was on his feet heading straight back to the infirmary. His stomach was fluttering and terror was making his heart pound. What if Carson couldn't fix what was wrong? What if he had to lose Rodney a second time? He couldn't do it. He couldn't. John did his best to keep his trembling under control as he hurried. He blinked to find Elizabeth at the infirmary.

"John, I was just going to call you," Elizabeth said with a surprised smile. "Carson just called me to say that he's figured out what's wrong."

"I just thought I'd come and see whether there was any progress," John said, shrugging.

Elizabeth didn't call him on it, and they both headed inside. Rodney was there and very real when they got inside, and John relaxed again. Elizabeth turned the visit into a debriefing, questioning Rodney on what had happened from his point of view. There were holes in Rodney's story a mile wide, but John didn't push. He had a sonic screwdriver to play with until Radek showed up and tried to steal it. Elizabeth left and Teyla came in. Teyla left and Ronon came to visit. Then Radek and some of the scientists arrived, and a couple of marines, and it turned into a steady parade of people visiting Rodney's side. He had endless complaints to air and stories to tell. John stayed by his side the entire time, listening and grinning.

Eventually, John was chased out of the infirmary and he went to bed, although the dreams were still there. His fear that it was all a daydream didn't fade as the next couple of days went on. He'd go to work, to training, to his office, he would be doing fine, and then he'd find himself hurrying through the hallways so that he could sit by Rodney's side and listen to him complain. Rodney's voice drove the nightmare screams in his head away.

"I swear," Rodney huffed just before dinner on the third day after his return, "don't you have anything better to do? You've been glued to my side ever since I got back."

"Nope," John said, fiddling with Rodney's sonic screwdriver. "Just paperwork, and this is way more fun."

"I knew it," Rodney said, rolling his eyes. "You only love me for my sonic screwdriver."

John felt his face go red. His ears were burning. His heart started pounding and his stomach tried to do a triple back-flip. He ducked his head and studied the sonic screwdriver that he had clenched in his hands. His fingers were trembling. He knew that this was the point at which he should say something, even a simple 'no, not only for the sonic screwdriver' but his throat had sealed up and he couldn't look Rodney in the eye.

By the time the panic drained out of him, Rodney was chattering on about the green cheese that they had on that planet. John passed Rodney his sonic screwdriver, breathing a mental sigh of relief that he hadn't given himself away totally. He knew that he needed to say something to Rodney about the way he felt, but it was too soon. He was still sick, still beating that drug that they'd put in his veins. John could wait. He'd waited this long, so it would be all right to wait a little longer.

"Gonna go get some dinner," John said in something that approximated his normal tone of voice.

"You do that," Rodney agreed, beaming as a nurse brought in his tray of food. "I could send her back for a tray for you if you want."

"No, that's fine." John refused the offer, his lips twitching as the nurse rolled her eyes at Rodney. "I need to check up on Teyla and Ronon anyway."

"All right, off you go." Rodney rubbed his hands together in glee at the mountain of food that Carson had ordered the kitchen to make for him. "Hopefully I'll be out of here tonight or tomorrow and things can get back to normal."

"That'd be good," said John, slipping away before Rodney could start making his food-eating porn noises.

John was quiet through dinner, making Ronon snort and bump his shoulder with one elbow. The implied 'just tell him already' made John's ears blush again. Teyla had that indulgent-yet-annoyed look on her face that said he'd be in for an extra strenuous training session the next day. Radek just rolled his eyes and shook his head at John's inability to say anything that wasn't completely unrelated to the dinner discussion of Rodney's return. John left early, handing Ronon his pudding and wondering if he'd be able to keep his hand steady when Rodney finally joined them for dinner again and John could give it to him instead. He tried to read but the words kept blurring out as he thought about Rodney—alive, here, in Atlantis, so close, and God damn alive! Suddenly, he snorted awake and realized he'd dozed off with his book on his chest.

"Go to sleep, John," he growled, tossing his book on the dresser and willing the lights off.

John started awake some time later, staring at his door. He blinked, his heart starting to pound. Rodney was standing in his doorway, barely illuminated by the light of the moons coming through the windows. John couldn't see his face at all. There was a faint gleam of Rodney's eyes, but that was it. Rodney tossed his battered bag onto the desk, threw his huge coat onto John's couch, and then John's heart stopped entirely as Rodney kicked off his shoes, slipped out of his pants and T-shirt, and came to John's bed.

Rodney slid under the covers as if he belonged there; grabbing John and thumping him back onto the pillows. John tried to say something, but his throat was doing the word-grinding thing as Rodney shoved his right arm out of the way and then snuggled up, wrapping a too-thin arm around John's stomach. John shuddered, swallowed hard, and took a deep breath.

"Uh, McKay?" John drawled, not surprised that his voice came out in his 'what the fuck' tone of voice.

"What?" Rodney asked, nearly laughing as he snuggled a little closer. His fingers trailed over John's ribs, warm and real.

"What is this?" John asked, shaking in reaction to Rodney's presence, the feel of his nearly skeletal body next to John's, and so damned much hope that it hurt.

Rodney didn't answer. Instead, he buried his face in the crook of John's neck, his breath warm and moist against John's skin. John shivered at the feel of Rodney's lips brushing over that spot on his neck, the one that always got John going. Rodney chuckled, kissing the spot he'd found. John moaned, pressing his head back against the pillows as he tried to control himself. Rodney reached down and pulled up the blankets, enveloping the two of them in warmth. Rodney slid his legs between John's, their feet tangling together. John slowly let out the breath that he hadn't realized that he'd been holding and, very slowly, very carefully, wrapped his arm around Rodney's back. There was a lot more strength there than John expected to find, a lot of power left despite the loss of mass. John pulled Rodney closer still, indulging the need he hadn't been able to voice.

"Aren't you going to say 'welcome home'?" Rodney whispered into the stubble under the curve of John's jaw.

John blinked and then smiled, breathing in the scent of Rodney's hair. He hadn't said it yet. He'd said other things, but he hadn't said those words, afraid that if he said them Rodney would disappear like a mirage. Rodney waited in silence, his fingers barely moving along John's ribs, just enough for John to know that it was real. After what seemed like forever, John let the fear and loss go, relaxing into Rodney's embrace, into the future, into the hope that Rodney's presence wasn't just a dream.

It didn't matter that John hadn't been able to get those special three words out of the word-grinder in his throat. Rodney knew. He'd seen and understood like the genius that he was, and he was in John's bed, giving John the second chance he'd wanted so badly. He couldn't say 'I love you' yet, but he could say three other words that meant almost the same thing. John thought that maybe they meant more.

"Welcome home, Rodney."

Rodney smiled into the stubble along John's jaw line and fell asleep. A couple of minutes of quiet joy later, John fell asleep too, home in his heart as well as his body.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Artwork for Home in the Heart by meyari (Chapter 2 of The Great Doctor McKay)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4362152) by [danceswithgary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithgary/pseuds/danceswithgary)




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